The Kelbrid Chronicles
by CosmosisJane
Summary: When the desires of mortals conflict with the designs of Gods, we must be willing to give up everything in order to secure our place in the universe. But how much are The Animorphs and their allies willing to sacrifice to finally secure the safety of their respective worlds? Chapters 1-2 rewritten for 2013. Post-54. M for language & adult themes.
1. Ramble and Roll

The Kelbrid Chronicles

REDUX

_And should we fall down by the wayside in this ever-changing world,_

_we can look back to these heroes of our past._

_With their staunch determination and ferocious iron will,_

_no tyranny would quell them in their task._

I. Ramble and Roll

Marco

My name is Marco.

God, it feels like forever since I've said that, and at the same time... Man, at the same time I feel like I've been saying it all my life. Sometimes I find myself wishing that I'll never have to say it again, never have to start a new chapter of this ridiculous, insane, brutal "adventure." I want this adventure to _end_, I want a break.

I want a vacation.

Right now, however, I don't have a single second to spare longing for the day I can finally hang up my uniform and tell someone else to go save the world. My best friend, the closest thing I have to a brother, just issued an order that will certainly, definitely, without a shadow of a doubt get us all killed. And for what? To spit in the eye of The One and his Yeerk lackeys? Excuse me if I'm not chomping at the bit for a chance to make a _gesture_. If I'm going to die while engaging the enemy, I want to be damn sure my final attack leaves a mark, hurts them like they've hurt me. But this? This is the equivalent of a fly declaring war on a windshield.

"Ram the Blade Ship," he says, and it may be the third or fourth time he's said it. No one is reacting, no one is responding. They're all just staring at him, like he's sprouted a second head, and _Christ_, I think the French woman is _crying_.

I take a deep breath, clear my throat, and then promptly tell Jake to shut his fat mouth.

Maybe I should insert a preface here before things really get out of hand. In it, I should probably explain to you who "we" are, why we're special, what we're doing in a remote corner of the galaxy in a standoff against a potentially omniscient alien entity that seems hell-bent on destroying everything, everywhere. I might give you a summary of all the seemingly insane events that have led up to this very moment.

You'll listen and nod and then you'll laugh and say, "Oh Marco, no one lives a life _that_ exciting! Surely you've embellished somewhere…" At which point I'll give you the finger and carry on saving your oblivious civilian ass, like I have a thousand times before.

Only now, unlike back _then_, you should know who we are. We've been all over the news, talk shows, documentaries, movies, books, the Internet… We're not fighting a secret war anymore. You should be as familiar with the name _The Animorphs_ as you are with _The Marines. _We're kind of a big deal.

So yes; aliens, shape-shifting, and intergalactic warfare are all very real. A bunch of teenagers saved the world; also real. We sacrificed our childhoods, our innocence, our families, and even each other when necessary. We bled, fought, and killed almost nonstop as our peers struggled through junior high school. While most people my age were intimately familiar with what popping pimples felt like, I was intimately familiar with what it felt like to have .55 caliber bullets blow giant holes in my body, what burnt flesh smelled like, the precise sound bones made when they snapped in two. I knew what the blood of several sentient species _tasted _like years before I lost my virginity. I—_we-_-had to grow up fast or not grow up at all.

So after finally emerging victorious (though not altogether _whole_), and having praise, rewards, and fame heaped on us like plastic beads around the necks of inebriated co-eds during Mardi Gras, you may be wondering why we didn't just bask in our much deserved glory and hero-worship before quietly sneaking off to live out the rest of our lives in relative peace and satisfaction with a job well done.

Why? Because _friendship_.

Friendship dragged me out here. Along with the possibility of blowing stuff up in space, which must _always_ be taken into consideration. But mostly friendship.

You see, our friend Ax is dead, allegedly consumed by The One, and that's kind of an issue for the surviving members of The Animorphs. There aren't a whole lot of us left, and those of us that_ are_… Well, I've managed to obtain copies of the government's workups in our dossiers, and "suffers from severe psychological and emotional damage" doesn't even begin to accurately reflect our collective state of being. We're banged up and bloody from years of hidden suffering and stress. We're barely holding ourselves together and _no one_ is going to hurt one of our own without having to pay the butcher's bill. The trick is figuring out how to make _them_ pony up more than we did, and ideally put them out of business forever.

"I'm not asking, Marco. That was an order."

Jake doesn't even bother to turn his head to look at me. He only has eyes for The One, who insists on wearing a perversion of our dead friend's face, adding a grotesque horizontal slash for a mouth. If you've never seen an Andalite, you won't be able to appreciate how _wrong _a mouth looks on their heads. What a creepy bastard.

"And I'm not a soldier. I don't take orders, especially not the fucking stupid variety," I snap back and _now_ he's looking at me.

Those prematurely old eyes of his zero-in on my own and it's like he doesn't even know who I am. There's nothing but a shadow of the guy I once knew in there, and this shade is both desperate and dangerous. He's like a starving, wounded predator backed into a corner and facing something bigger and meaner than himself. To Jake, a fly declaring war on a windshield not only seems rational, but inevitable. It's the only move he has left to make.

Screw that. There's always more than one gambit to choose from. Jake's forgotten that; forgotten how many impossible scrapes we managed to survive, how many improbable and unlikely schemes we cooked up at the last minute that somehow managed to work.

"Don't you get it?" He asks, gesturing behind him toward the display screen showing the amorphous, changeable image of The One. "This is it. This is the enemy we don't win against. It killed Ax," he says, voice rising with each word. He looks at Tobias, jabbing a finger at the breast of the red-tailed hawk. "No, it _erased _Ax! And it's going to do the same thing to everything else. Everyone we know and care about. So what would you suggest we do? _N__othing_?!"

"Run now and live to fight again some other day, Jake," I retort. "A day when we have some intel on this thing, on what it did to Ax, on… _anything_ related to it. That sounds a hell of a lot better to me than a kamikaze run which—"

**SILENCE**.

The command reverberates inside of my head like a clap of thunder, ushering in a wave of nausea so intense I feel as though I may pass out. Vision swimming, I manage to catch a glimpse of Jake as he stumbles into the control panel of _The Rachel_, clutching his head, blood streaming from his eyes, ears, and nose. Judging by the warm dampness I feel slicking my own face, I rightly assume I'm in a similar state.

**YOU ARE MINE. YOU BELONG NOT UNTO YOURSELVES.**

This time, I do throw up. I feel my legs give out as immense pressure exerts itself somewhere over my head, behind my shoulders, directly on top of my heart. It's unbearable. A few seconds and all I can do is pray that I die soon. At least then I'll be rid of this indescribable pain.

**YOU. **

**WILL. **

**SUBMIT.**

And I do. I submit. There may have been an infinite number of paths we might have walked, choices we might have made before this moment. But now, within reach of The One, all illusion of choice is stripped away. I can see, finally and irrefutably, that every moment of my life has inevitably led to this. It was all for nothing. It was all for The One.

**I AM THE END OF ALL THINGS.**

Please, please. Oh God, _please_ just let it stop.

Now, don't ask me how or why, but for some reason, I feel myself yanked back from the razor's edge of infinite agony offered by The One, feel a shock of cold pulse through my consciousness, and I swear on my life I hear someone calling my name.

_Marco_. _Marco!_ _Pull it together!_

Somehow, I push back against the creeping, cold _nothingness_ infiltrating my mind; push back against the pressure threatening to crush my soul down to its smallest atomic components. My instincts-and the primitive instincts of the bestiary co-opting my genetic code-roar to life, and The One roars back.

**SUBMIT.**

"Fuck… You," I manage.

"Go to Hell," Jake grinds out.

"We. Are going. To _destroy_ you," gasps Tobias, curled up on the deck in his human form. I don't know how or _when_ he did it, but he managed to morph before The One shattered his fragile avian spine against the deck.

**YOU WILL NOT.**

This time I feel bones break, this time I can see _The Rachel_'s electronics sparking and denting, crumpling from the invisible force grinding us into dust. All of the air is forced out of my lungs as my ribcage is smashed against the floor and I swear my eyeballs are going to burst in their sockets.

_ Just a little longer. They're coming for you_.

But I can't, we can't. No one can survive this. The ship is on fire, water is streaming from the cooling system as it fractures and tears apart. Every single cell of my body is compressed and I can feel myself breaking down into the most basic elements.

My vision goes dark and all I can do is wait for it to be over.

And then… _and then!_

Then a voice filters down from somewhere out among the stars, and shared thought-speak trickles into our brains like melting snow.

[_Prince Jake and crew, hold fast. We are preparing to intercept_.]

Somehow I know that the owner of this voice and the others following it are packing some serious heat, and that somehow they are aware of what The One is capable of. These unknown saviors are not afraid. Quite the opposite. They are _eager_. I can feel their enthusiasm, their yearning for a good fight, leap above the waves of pain threatening to drown my consciousness. These are _hunters_ coming to rescue us, and _they_ reckon that even The One should be fearful of them.

And though I've never met one, never even seen a picture of one, nor heard more than an anecdotal, sketchy tale from the memory of a reluctant Andalite or Cree, I know who's rocketing across the cosmos to our aid, though for the life of me I can't figure out _why_.

It's the Kelbrids. Hallelujah.

_Lyrics: "Heroes From Our Past" Dropkick Murphys_


	2. The Stars Look Down

The Kelbrid Chronicles

REDUX

_The snakes and arrows a child is heir to_

_are enough to leave a thousand cuts._

_We build our defenses, a place of safety,_

_and leave the darker places unexplored._

II. The Stars Look Down

Jake

_Breathe!_

I try to pull air into my lungs but my diaphragm refuses to comply, and each attempt sends a shock of agonizing pain through whatever remains of my nervous system.

_You have to breathe!_

Godammit, I'm trying. Can't you see what that thing has done to me? To us? Reduced us to mewling kittens; landed fish squirming in our own blood and vomit, desperate for just a sip of air to soothe our burning lungs, our savaged muscles, our dying brains.

My vision has been reduced to pinpricks, but I can just make out the blurry outlines of my companions as they shudder and twitch; Marco is closest to me, Tobias just a few feet behind where my feet are drumming against the deck, Menderash is perfectly still, one hand stretched out toward the guttering control panel, and Jeanne and Santorelli are both face down toward the rear of the cabin. There's smoke and freezing water all around us as _The Rachel_ buckles under the weight of The One's onslaught.

I attempt to look up one last time at the face that The One is wearing, to mouth an "I'm sorry" at what little is left of the friend I came to save, but I might as well be trying to lift the Empire State building with my pinky. Instead, all I manage to glimpse is a blurred shape that seems vaguely human, and very much like a hallucination brought on by severe oxygen deprivation.

_They're coming. Just stay awake a little longer, please. You have to try. This is _important_, Jake_.

Without warning, the weight of The One vanishes and air somehow forces my windpipe open, streaming down into my lungs. I swear I can feel each individual oxygen molecule pumping life back into my body with every shuddering, frantic gasp. Inside, I can feel some of my bones grinding against each other; dislocations and fractures that will need attention, but later. As my nerves start firing clearly through the haze of imminent death, fresh pain blossoms in my chest and face. Reaching up, it's clear that my nose is broken, crushed against the floor while The One had me pinned down.

"Shiiiiit," Marco groans, rolling to the side. He spits out several teeth and gummy wads of blood dribble from his chin.

"Who…?" Tobias manages through gritted teeth. He's breathing hard and frothy pink foam keeps coming up in horrible wheezing coughs. I think he's punctured a lung. Or one's collapsed.

"Not important," I reply, dragging myself up on what seems to be my "good" leg in that it still responds to muscle commands. The rest of my weight is balanced against the dead control panel. A cursory inspection of _The Rachel_'s structural integrity and vital systems leads me to believe that the ship could come apart at any second. Other than sheer stubborn will and strict adherence to her namesake, I don't know what's still holding her together.

"Is everyone…?"

"Alive," Jeanne grunts, echoed by Santorelli. "Barely."

"I…" Menderash rises unsteadily to his feet, crying out as his left knee bends the wrong way. He topples back to the deck and stays there, breathing but mercifully unconscious.

"Did they kill it?" Marco asks, awkwardly stabbing at the non-functional controls with fingers that are clearly dislocated. "None of the screens are working…"

As if in direct defiance of this pronouncement, the ship's secondary exterior camera fires up and starts relaying images from outside. It's still tracking the Blade Ship; the images interrupted by occasional power hiccups that cause the feed to jump and sputter as the operating system struggles to stay online.

"Ship's still there," Tobias rattles. "Can't be dead."

Along with the bloody lung-foam, his left arm is clearly broken, and he's a hairsbreadth away from passing out. There's a laceration on his forehead that looks like it's to the bone, and it's gushing like an arterial bleed.

"Tobias, you need to morph back, _now_," I sputter as he wobbles on unsteady feet.

"I'm okay," he insists, still staring at his dangling arm.

"Man, if you pass out in that body, we might not be able to wake you up to reset your clock. Pass out as the bird, and we don't have to worry about it," Marco says, eyes narrowing at Tobias' stubbornness and lack of logical thinking. "Plus, you'll undo everything The One did."

"Fine, whatever," Tobias snaps. Despite the attitude, he starts to morph, the familiar feather pattern appearing on his skin like a color version Etch-a-Sketch, then lifting away from his skin as he shrinks down; bones and organs rearranging, disappearing, and forming where none were before. I think it takes longer than our very first morphs, but he pulls it off.

As predicted, the hawk doesn't have the energy to stay awake. Mentally and metabolically exhausted, Tobias manages scramble and flap his way up onto the lap of one of the few seats still upright before closing his eyes and collapsing in a heap of wet feathers. From the looks of things, he's going to be out for a while.

"So where are they? The ones who told us to—" Santorelli begins to ask.

_Here_.

"There," I nod as the motion-sensing camera detects new movement and swings far to the left of its range. Three crescent-shaped ships flicker into view; seemingly silver, then obsidian, then bright as mirrored glass. The camera has a hard time keeping track of them as they leap forward from their entry point like wolves scenting fresh blood in the air. There is no mistaking these as anything but life-ending, world-destroying machines, piloted by beings that seem to _revel_ in the promise of the kill. Perhaps through the remnants of the thought-speak link initiated earlier, I can _feel_ their unbridled joy, their sense of freedom, of truly _living_ as they prepare to snuff out the lives of their enemies.

"…And I looked, and beheld a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him," Jeanne whispers and I _know _everyone feels the chill crawl up their spine same as me.

These things do indeed look like Death incarnate; charging for the Blade Ship without hesitation, the points of their crescents pointed forward, like fangs or claws or the business-end of the headsman's ax.

The cluster of ships split from their tight formation, one keeping to the rear, while the other two peel off to flank the Blade Ship. But then they slow down as well, nipping at the heels of the quickly accelerating behemoth rather than delivering a killing stroke. The pilot of the Blade Ship must notice the lackluster attack and, quite wrongly, assumes the pursuers have underestimated the capabilities of his ship. The Blade Ship opens fire, throws everything it has at the pursuers, and then begins to bank and switch to the offensive as the crescent ships put up a weak return volley.

"It's an ambush." I squint a little at the screen. "Those three are just a distraction."

"For what?" Santorelli asks, wiping a fresh stream of blood from his nose.

"That," Marco laughs and it sounds like gravel being dragged over rough cement. He points at the screen as a fourth, markedly larger crescent flickers into view, already a blur of motion as it goes for the front, goes for the _throat_.

[Who is the Andalite onboard?]

It's the same voice as before, and I can tell from the… the _texture _of the link that it's being broadcast to everyone onboard _The Rachel. _ Unfortunately, none of us can respond. The only people currently capable of thought-speech, Menderash and Tobias, are out for the count.

_Just answer. She'll hear you_.

"I can do it, I'll morph," Marco mumbles. The tips of his fingers are already turning black, and the muscles of his arms are expanding like balloons pumped full of air, but he's so _slow_, we're all so slow, so tired and hurt.

[I repeat, _who _is the Andalite onboard?!]

_Answer her, Jake!_

"He's our friend!" I call out, looking at the screen. The larger crescent passes over the head of the Blade Ship and blows the bridge apart with devastating effect.

All the air comes out of me in a rush. Though there was little enough hope that Ax's body could be recovered, actually _seeing_ that hope vanish obliterates what few fragments remained of "Jake the Leader."

"I'm sorry," Marco looks at me, then at his hands still mid-morph, then back to me. "I tried, I really did. I just… I couldn't…"

The lead crescent ship swings down around what's left of the Blade Ship and hangs there, belly-to-belly.

[Stand-by. I am attempting to board the enemy vessel.]

This time the message is just for me, as if the frequency has been fine-tuned and narrowed down. It feels sharper, somehow, and I get the distinct feeling of being scrutinized under hot florescent lights.

"He's dead," I rasp, holding myself up with a white-knuckle grip on the control panel.

[Highly probable. However, several life-forms remain onboard; one registers as an Andalite. My systems cannot determine if it is alive, just that it is there. The other signatures are Yeerks. Your "friend" will be retrieved if possible.]

"What about The One?"

[Gone. Where or why, I do not know. Perhaps it is still here, watching.]

The laser-focus I feel through the connection wavers momentarily, as if the speaker's attention has been drawn elsewhere. Then the spotlight returns and I can't hide the shudder that passes through me, nor the film of sweat that breaks out over my skin. This is going to take some getting used to.

[Your ship appears to be badly damaged. Current projections estimate total systems failure in…]

There is a palpable pause in the speaker's string-of-thought followed by an emotional vibration that I _feel_ as though it were my own frustration.

[_Ciach_… I am not sure of the conversion rate to your standard measurement of time, but you will be dead in much less of it than you would probably like.]

"Yeah, I can confirm that we're non-operational right now," I say to the screen, and by extension, to the being talking to me inside my head. "Definitely on the brink of exposure to open space."

"Jake… Uh…" Marco is still morphing, but the process is creeping along so slowly he can still manage words even this long after initiating the change. "Who're you talking to?"

As if on cue, the link is abruptly severed. The last impression that I manage to decipher is that the speaker had managed to get inside the Blade Ship and was _not_ pleased by what it found. If the operators of the smaller crescent ships had seemed giddy at the prospect of a good fight, the one I assume to be their commander is treating the entire altercation as a detestable, _dirty_ job; one that is best done quickly and with as little fuss as possible. Whatever it saw upon boarding the Yeerk vessel has both disgusted and enraged it.

For the briefest of moments, I actually feel _sorry_ for the poor bastards facing that thing, whatever it is.

"Jake?" Marco asks again. Then, [Jake?], as the morph swallows him up entirely, leaving nearly a quarter-ton of exhausted silverback gorilla staring at me.

"Their commander," I gesture vaguely at the screen. "Apparently they can hear us even if we're not using thought-speak."

[Neat trick], the gorilla grunts and rocks back on its powerful haunches. [What'd it say?]

"It's boarding the Blade Ship to look for Ax's—" I stumble over the word _body_. "It's going to get Ax, And to kill the Yeerks that weren't on the bridge, I guess," I finish lamely.

"Who are they?" Santorelli asks while wrapping one of Jeanne's arms with strips of fabric from his own bloodied shirt. "Did they say?"

[Kelbrids], Marco replies, cracking the equivalent of a gorilla-smile. [Have to be. I couldn't figure out why at first, but we _are_ in their territory. They probably came to investigate and decided to help us rather than blow us all to smithereens. Lucky us.]

"So you're saying we were rescued by the alien equivalent of _border patrol_?" Jeanne asks, wincing as Santorelli pulls her makeshift bandages tight, into something resembling a splint.

[Basically. Let's just hope they don't insist on a cavity search], Marco quips. [At least not before buying us a round of drinks. I can't speak for anyone else, but I'm not going to be a cheap date for some squid-monster po-po.]

"A man must have his standards," I reply, forcing a weak smile onto my own face.

"You guys are nuts," Santorelli says, tearing another strip of cloth from the remnants of his shirt. "I mean truly, seriously mentally jacked-up. I can't even begin to process what just happened to us, only that whatever it was nearly left me fused to the deck, and you're making _anal probe_ jokes?"

[Your options are to laugh at the absurdity of our current situation or to go insane, Sergeant. Your choice.]

I don't bother adding that we've also been surviving and initiating attacks like this since junior high school. Well, maybe not _exactly_ like this, but I guess we've gotten to the point where very little shocks us anymore. I'm not sure if that's necessarily a good thing, but considering our current situation, I'm not going to over-analyze it. A little psychological insulation against all things horrific is always welcome as far as I'm concerned.

"The big ship is pulling away," Jeanne says, staring up at the exterior feed. "Mission accomplished, I suppose."

We all turn our attention to the screen, watching what we can only hope is the conclusion to this confrontation. The large crescent-ship speeds away from the dead, drifting Blade Ship, followed by the two flanking attackers before all three flicker out of view. The last of the Kelbrid group settles directly over the top of the enemy vessel and then stops.

"What are they—"

My question is interrupted by the shockwave emanating from the space that the Blade Ship had occupied just seconds before. _The Rachel_ bucks and tumbles from the force of the blast, thrown by the wave of energy and debris spreading from the detonation point. The exterior camera that had managed to keep us apprised of what was going on outside falls dark.

[Crap.]

"Now what do we do?!" Jeanne demands, her voice barely audible over the sounds of tearing metal and collapsing bulkheads.

Our little commandeered vessel has finally been pushed beyond her limit. The cabin goes dark as the emergency lights fail, and the sporadic showers of sparks cascading from the electrical systems are all that remain between us and total darkness.

"Christ, don't let any of the wires touch the water!" Santorelli yells.

"Why? Are you worried about being electrocuted?" I ask, and I can't stop the wet, painful laugh that bubbles up from my chest.

"Are you insane?!" Santorelli screams. "Of course I'm worried about—"

[Think about where we are.] Marco slaps at the water, a hollow "Huh, huh, huh" passing for a chuckle. [We've got a few minutes, tops, before the hull splits open we're all sucked out into space.]

A vibration passes through the ship, through us, and a new voice—this one _fizzing_ with excitement and curiosity—pops into our heads.

[Attention, crew of the, ahhhh, unidentified alien vessel! This is the First Communications Officer of the _Juy-Il_, ah, Ru-Reasach Fiosrach. Your ship is no longer, ah-ah, able to sustain life-support systems and has reached a critical damage point. The _Juy-Il_ and its High Commander, ah, request permission to bring your vessel, and ah, _you_, onboard for repairs and medical attention, such as we, ah, are able to provide.]

[Oh, hell yes!] Marco answers, punctuated by a guttural roar issued straight from the beast's gut.

"We'd definitely appreciate any help you're willing to provide," I add, bracing myself as much as possible against the control panel as _The Rachel_ suffers another round of violent death throes.

"Considering their stupid bomber is the one responsible for pushing our 'alien vessel' over the edge, I'd say they _owe_ us some help! That was obviously danger-close, and they _knew _it. Had to," growls Santorelli, soaked to the skin and trying to shield Jeanne from another burst of electrical sparks.

[That order was, ah, issued from _Impireach __Ordú_, Imperial Command, and superseded the, aaaahhhh, recommendations made by _our_ High Commander. Please, we do not have much time left to successfully retrieve you before-]

[Just do it!] Tobias is up and furiously beating the air with his wings in agitation and panic. Apparently he's come around just as we're about to die. Again.

Then my ears pop, and in an instant, the ship is quieted, calmed. Another second ticks by and the emergency lights come back on, the exposed wires stop sizzling and snapping, the flow of leaking, gushing water ceases.

[Retrieval successful. Please stay onboard your ship while a quarantine zone is, ah, established. I am, ah, afraid that we cannot safely interact with any of you until a full medical diagnostic is, ah-ah, completed and assessed by our Chief Medical Officer.]

"Thanks, Ru," I manage, finally letting go of the control panel and sitting down in the pool of cold water at my feet. "We'll try to be patient."

[You are most welcome. Ahhh, are any of you seriously injured?]

"I think we all have internal injuries. Bone fractures, definitely. One of our crew members is pretty bad, and he can't treat himself like the rest of us," I explain, looking to Menderash. Someone, probably Santorelli, dragged the _nothlit _up against a wall, propped him up, and kept his head above the waterline. His knee is still bent at an angle that is all _kinds_ of wrong, and his face is so swollen and bruised he's barely recognizable.

"Frankly, I'm not exactly sure _what_ that thing did to us."

A flare of disgust and revulsion shoots through the mental connection.

[We have had very little, ahhh, interaction with the being that refers to itself as "The One." We do know that is not… _natural_. Not right.]

[Too real, too much of everything and of nothing. Like a mountain crammed inside a music box made out of shadows and smoke], Marco adds.

"Great. Now the primate is getting philosophical…" Santorelli grumbles.

[We can provide, ah ah ah, medical supplies and support, but no direct interaction, as I stated earlier. Any emergency medical procedures will have to wait. I apologize for that, but, ah… It is for your safety as well as ours.]

"Understood. Santorelli, Jeanne… We need to morph. Something simple, about the same size as your own body if you can. You'll waste less energy in mass transfer that way," I explain, already visualizing black stripes on orange fur, muscles that move like liquid steel, and flashing amber eyes. _Panthera tigris altaica_; the Siberian tiger, and almost as familiar to me as my own body.

The change is hard, and I barely have enough energy to stay conscious through it. Morphing is more than just an exchange of mass. It's not like going to a bank and taking what you need or leaving what you don't. The entire process requires that your DNA re-arranges itself, and while the mechanism provided by the _Escafil_ device helps to facilitate, even direct, that change… It's not a power generator; it doesn't _make_ the energy necessary to change form. A cost to everything, I suppose.

When my vision finally clears, I can see that the others did as I instructed.

[Don't try to morph back right away. Give yourself a minute to recover], I tell them. The cold water lapping at my paws doesn't bother the tiger at all, and the mental relief provided by the silencing of my pain receptors is heavenly. No more broken bones, no more dislocations, no more bruised and ruptured organs. No more dancing along the edge of oblivion. No more wondering if being dead would be better, easier. Certainly less agonizing.

Life is good. For now.

It appears that Santorelli and Jeanne both opted for the Belgian Malinois I had all of my Morphing Class students acquire. The source animal was a working drug-sniffer for the DEA, in his prime, and very intelligent. Jeanne's rendition lies right down in the water, head propped up on crossed forelegs, and closes its eyes. Santorelli's begins barking and tail-wagging so vigorously, and I'm concerned that he's lost control of the animal-mind sharing space with his own.

[Sergeant?] I ask.

[No worries. I'm here. Just feels so _good_ to not be broken.] He barks again. [Also, I gotta get me a dog when I get home. These guys are _great_.]

[Isn't this the part where you insist 'Cats rule!' Jake?] Marco asks. [I mean, you're basically an overgrown tabby.]

I roar, full-throated and fierce, swiping at the air with claws extended.

[Okay, okay], Marco's gorilla dances back, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. [But there'll be no Meow Mix for you!]

Strange. This is so like the old days, so like the way we used to be. It almost hurts; thinking about how silly and _young_ we were when all of this started, and how much we lost along the way. When was the last time Marco and I could just joke around?

A few minutes later, everyone but Tobias de-morphs. He seems content to remain a hawk for the time being, which comes as no great surprise. Marco takes up position as our spokesperson while the rest of us catch our breath and stretch. Jeanne can't seem to stop rubbing her arms, her fingers constantly brushing over the places where her bones had perforated the skin after the attack.

"I never really appreciated how _amazing_ this is," she says, more to herself than any of us.

[I apologize for the, ah, interruption…]

Ru again.

"No worries. Any updates for us?" Marco asks, staring up at the roof of the cabin, as if the Communications Officer were floating somewhere overhead.

A hint of frayed nerves and anxiety filters through the shared connection, pressing like a damp, clammy hand on the back of my neck. I get the impression that Ru is hiding something.

[Ah, the quarantine perimeter has been established. Upon, ah, disembarking, you will see a red line demarcating the boundary between your space and ours. You will not be able to, ah, _see_ it, but beyond that line is a two-way defensive barrier. If you, ah, attempt to pass the line, you will be rendered unconscious.]

A mental shudder vibrates out from Ru's end, and a fuzzy memory of being accidentally zapped by the same barrier during a training exercise slips through to us. It is not a pleasant recollection.

He continues, [The barrier prevents the transfer of, ahhh, biological contaminants between our species. It is a temporary measure, until we can-]

"And Ax? The Andalite your pilot tried to take off the Blade Ship," I ask, realizing my oversight a second too late.

[_What?!_] Tobias screams. [Was he _alive?!_]

"They couldn't tell, but their commanding pilot said they'd try to get him off the Blade Ship anyway," I explain, "I forgot that you were unconscious for that whole discussion, I'm sorry..."

Silence from Ru's end, and then it's as if we're being swept up in a river of grief and regret. Now I know what he was hiding, and why.

[I am, ahhhhh, so sorry,] he answers. [She _did_ try to save him. His life signs were very faint, and his thoughts… She could not, ah, hold on to them long enough. He is gone, _d'imigh sé chuig an talamh sa samhradh, _only the body remains. I do not know what else to say, or what words might give you comfort...]

"The One told us Ax had been assimilated, consumed," Marco shouts. "How could he have survived that?"

He's thinking the same thing that I am: That maybe if we'd been faster, or smarter, _better_ somehow, we would have reached Ax in time. That if we hadn't taken The One's proclamation for truth, we might have saved our friend.

"Explain how that's possible!" Marco demands, slamming a fist into the wall behind him.

[I, ah! I do not know!]

[Your interrogation of my Communications Officer will cease, _immediately_.]

Like before, the spotlight effect of the crescent-ship commander's link focuses on my mind, and I can't help but feel as though a layer of my skin has been peeled back for inspection.

[I removed the Andalite's body from the Yeerk vessel myself. He had already passed beyond _An Fial_. I attempted to draw him back, but he slipped away from me. Considering his physical state, it was probably for the best.]

Tobias screams once, a sound like nails down a chalkboard, and then launches himself into the air, slamming hard against the low ceiling of the cabin. He drops to the floor like a stone, and struggles in the water for a few seconds before Marco gets his hands around him, trapping his wings against his body.

"Easy, buddy. Easy…"

"Did you bring the…" Again _that word_ refuses to be said aloud. "Did you bring him back with you?" I manage to ask.

[Of course. We are not savages and not without sympathy. He did not deserve the same fate the rest of that _dramhaíl_, that _trash_, warranted. You may inspect what remains after exiting your ship, if you like.]

"Thank you," I finish, and feel my throat constricting.

I'm not entirely sure which is worse; believing Ax had been dead from the outset and being _wrong_, or learning how close we had come to saving him. If we had gotten to him sooner, if I had been faster, or made a different call…

The connection with the female Kelbrid abruptly closes, like a door slammed in my face, but not before a distinctly private thought is delivered:

[Be strong. _Tá__ aon ceann_. There are no endings. A Kelbrid saying, but I believe the meaning translates adequately.]

No one says anything more. Tobias is crying out pitifully in Marco's hands, occasionally kicking at the water and biting in a vain attempt to free himself.

"_Dieu est mon berger: je ne manquerai de rien_," Jeanne chants softly from her corner.

"_Il me fait reposer dans de verts pâturages, Il me dirige près des eaux paisibles_." She moves quietly and quickly through the water, then crouches down in front of Marco, who is now cradling Tobias' avian form in his lap.

"_Il restaure mon âme, Il me conduit dans les sentiers de la justice, à cause de son nom. Quand je marche dans la vallée de l'ombre de la mort, je ne crains aucun mal,"_ she croons, reaching out with a trembling hand and gently caressing his damp feathers.

"_Car tu es avec moi_," she breathes. "For thou art with me."

I'm not a religious person, and I think I stopped believing in God right around the time my brother was made a Controller. Full realization came slowly, but once I recognized it for what it was, I wasn't upset. I accepted it the same way I accepted that the Easter Bunny, and Santa Claus, and all the other stupid kiddie bullshit I once believed in wasn't real. Just a nice fairy tale someone thought up to take some of the fear out of life, out of the unknown.

Listening to her now, I know Jeanne's a believer. Deep down, at her very core, she _believes_ in everything she just said to Tobias. Whether or not he understand any of it doesn't matter. It's the sincerity in the words, in the prayer, that reaches out and eases some of his hurts.

[We will be waiting for you outside], Ru informs me, and only me, before gently closing his connection.

Tobias morphs into his original body, and this time the procedure is quick, shockingly so. He chokes back a moan of despair before he throws himself into Jeanne's outstretched arms, buries his head into her shoulder and finally breaks down into a series of gut-wrenching sobs.

A knot made of barbed wire forms in my chest, in the space where my heart should be, and I can feel it shredding my insides each time I exhale.

_Breathe_, commands an imagined voice.

"But it hurts _so_ much," I reply.

_Lyrics: "Snakes and Arrows" Rush_


	3. Don't Go Away

The Kelbrid Chronicles

REDUX

---

_And all the roads we have to walk are winding,_

_and all the lights that lead us there are blinding._

_There are many things that I would like to say to you,_

_but I don't know how._

---

III. Don't Go Away

Tobias

My name is Tobias.

My uncle, my last link to my _real_ family, is dead.

I don't know what to do. What am I _supposed_ to do?

Marco and Jake are staring at me. Jake looks like he's just been disemboweled while Marco searches for something, _anything_, to say. Marco has never been good at handling uncomfortable silences.

"Tobias, man, I--"

But I don't let him finish. I get out of my chair and find the extinguisher I'd dropped to the floor just moments before. It's the only thing in this whole goddamn ship that I won't feel guilty breaking. Without any warning, I slam the butt of it into the rear wall with all the strength that I have. It doesn't even leave a scuff mark. Having apparently lost my freaking mind, I hurl the canister into the wall again, and again, and again. Jeanne angrily demands that someone "_do_ something!"

Finally, Jake traps both my arms from behind and Marco gently pulls the extinguisher out of my hands.

"I think you killed it, buddy," he says, and tosses it away from me.

"This isn't going to change things, Tobias," Jake says, and I resist the urge to punch him in the face. "Later," he insists, and I get the feeling he means _'Later_,' as in, '_we'll beat the unholy Hell out of each other once we're back on Terra Firma_."

"Fine," I jerk my arms free from his hold and take a step back from him.

"There will be time to be pissed about this. Right now we have to convince the Kelbrids to help us deal with The One," he says. The panicked, pained look he had been wearing just moments before is gone, once again having been replaced by the stoic mask he prefers.

Right, swallow another bitter pill, Jake, take another hit for the team. Jake thinks he has to be strong because he's the leader, and leaders are supposed to shoulder everyone else's burdens. As long as his team can still function, can still be effective, Jake believes he's doing right by us. But everyone has their limit, and Jake has been shouldering more than his fair share of the weight for a long, long time. One of these days, he's going to break, and the result will be far worse than any fleeting moment of insanity that I might occasionally display.

"I need you to pull yourself together," he finishes, and squeezes my shoulder.

"Prince Aximili was exceptionally brave to face The One," Menderash says, finally turning around to look at me. "You should be proud of him."

"Shut up, coward." I immediately regret my choice of words, because I might as well have slapped Menderash in the face, the reaction is the same. Pain lights up his features and it takes a few seconds for him to recover. Slowly he lifts his chin and breathes deeply, evenly.

"I will have to live with my cowardice for the rest of my days, Tobias," he says, his voice quiet and rough around the edges. I've cut him deeply. "But that does not mean I will ever stop honoring my Prince's sacrifice." He turns back to the controls.

"Internal pressure has now stabilized with the _Genpur _ship, Prince Jake. Exit is a go, when you are ready," he states, making a few more adjustments before turning around again.

Jake takes a deep breath and studies each of us for a moment, making sure that, at least for appearances sake, we _look_ prepared for this.

"Let's go," he says, and heads down the single, narrow passage that leads to the first airlock. He taps the control pad on the side of the first set of sealed doors and they immediately hiss open, panels retracting into the wall. We all move into a room even smaller than the cabin and Jake hesitates a beat.

"One last time; we're all ready?" he asks, looking back over a hunched shoulder. Everyone replies in the affirmative, and Jake taps the second control pad. The doors behind us seal shut before the panels in front pull apart, like the teeth of a yawning animal.

Beyond the doors, what seems to be mile after mile of smooth, pewter-colored glass flooring stretches out before us, until my weak human eyes can follow the curved horizon no more. Hundreds, _thousands_, of crescent- and boomerang-shaped ships are parked, like modern pieces of sculpture, in neat, orderly rows. They almost seem to have merged with the rest of the massive structure, the bottoms meeting seamlessly with the floor.

"Woah," Marco exhales.

"Ah! There you are!" Ru's head pops up just over the lip of the doorway, despite there being a good 6 or 7 feet to the floor. He must be a lot taller than he looked on screen. "I was beginning to worry..." He says, offering a heavily clawed paw--hand--to Jake. Behind Ru, a group of about ten other Kelbrids stand at attention.

"Your, ah, envoy. Pay them no attention, they are, ah, harmless. Do you require assistance getting down?"

"Uh, no, hang on a minute," Jake says and releases a catch on the floor. A battered, slightly rusted ladder drops down, nearly reaching the bottom.

We all manage to climb down, mostly without incident, save for Santorelli who catches his foot in the last rung and nearly breaks his neck trying to get himself free. Ru catches him before he totally loses his balance and sets him right. The man is saved from any further embarrassment when Ru trips, quite spectacularly, over his own tail and diverts all attention to himself. He somehow got tangled up in it while rushing to greet each of us, shaking our hands much too hard.

"Graceful, as ever, Officer Ru-Reasach," drawls a female voice. Another Kelbrid is approaching from further down the dock, what looks like a helmet tucked beneath one arm.

"Ah! Senator Cerrid! I, ah, just lost my--" he manages to get himself back on his feet quickly, and snaps a salute. The Senator ignores him.

"You must be Prince Jake," she says, incredibly bright gold eyes focusing instantly on our leader. He has to look up to meet her gaze, as she's only a little shorter than Ru. Her features are softer, but her muscles seem better defined. I guess that would make sense, as she's a solider, and Ru is basically a desk jockey.

"That'd be me," Jake says, his eyes drifting past her shoulder to another group of Kelbrids approaching.

"My pilots," the Senator explains. "We're all on our way to _stavo_ and then a debriefing, but we thought we'd return something that belongs to you first."

The group steps aside and a pallet suspended in the air moves forward so that we can see.

Ax, or what's left of him, is laid out on it's smooth, shining surface.

"Jesus Christ..." Santorelli breathes, and Jeanne turns away, one hand over her mouth.

"I am sorry that we did not arrive fast enough to save him. From what we can tell, he put up quite a fight," the Senator says, and I catch the slight droop to her ears. It's the first display of real emotion I've seen from her.

"What are all the wires for?" I ask, stepping up closer to the gurney, willing myself not to look away. This is _Ax_, I at least owe him a few questions.

"The results of triage," she answers. "We tried everything we could think of, even pumping him full of regenerative nanites. His heart and lungs are working, but with significant assistance. We..." she trails off briefly before coming up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me.

"We haven't detected any neurological activity. He's gone, there's nothing more we can do for him."

"But, ah! That's not entirely true, Senator!" exclaims Ru, shuffling up alongside, and gesturing wildly in his uncontainable excitement.

"We could try--"

"You forget yourself, Officer Ru-Reasach," she states, once again cold and formal.

"But--!"

"What is he talking about? Is there something else you could do?" I ask, turning my head to look up at the Senator who is now pinching the bridge of her nose, clearly annoyed.

"It wouldn't be possible. The procedure that he's referring to is rarely successful, and even if we were willing to try it, we don't know enough about Andalite anatomy to--"

"I can be of service there," Menderash says, stepping forward. "I know I may not look like it, but Prince Aximili and I are of the same species."

"I am well aware of that, _nothlit_," she sneers. "I know an Andalite when I see one, regardless of what disguise he has chosen to dress himself in."

"Understood," Menderash replies, having chosen to do the _un-_Andalite thing for once and back down, at least for now. "Regardless, I can supply you with all the information you might need, if a lack thereof is all that is keeping you from proceeding."

"It is not," she says and looks away, her ears straining forward and then snapping back. "This is a matter more complicated than you could possibly know. Though I command this ship, I do not have the authority to release the technology the procedure employs to unfamiliar aliens. It cannot be done, I am sorry."

"But you must!" Menderash pleads, desperation causing him to leave all sense of reserve and decorum aside.

The Senator crosses her arms behind her back and stares down her snout at Menderash, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. When she speaks, it is loud enough for everyone assembled on the deck to hear,

"Dismiss the envoy, Ru-Reasach, they do not have the clearance to hear any more."

Ru shoos the envoy off, and though they seem reluctant, they exit the dock quickly. The pilots, who have remained behind, look a bit nervous, each of them shifting from foot-too-foot, several sets of ears flicking aimlessly.

Once she's satisfied that the area is clear, the Senator continues,

"Tell me, Andalite, if our fortunes were reversed, if it were I stretched out on that gurney and Officer Ru-Reasach were pleading for your assistance, would you give it? Knowing that doing so would mean releasing advanced, possibly _dangerous_, technology to an alien species?"

"No," Menderash answers. "As an Andalite, I could not."

She nods and moves to dismiss her pilots when Menderash speaks again.

"But I am not a true Andalite anymore, am I? I have spent some time with these humans, and before that, I served under Prince Aximili who loved them more than his own people," he says, challenging her to reconsider.

"Now, I know better. I _am_ better."

She snorts and tosses her head, opening her mouth to say what I can only assume will be another variation of "no," when a new voice resounds inside the cavernous dock.

"Oh, stop being such a damn tyrant, Cerrid!"

Another female Kelbrid, similar to the Senator in size and coloration, is loping toward us, shaking her head as she moves.

"I heard you arguing with the rest of the Senate earlier, how fiercely you demanded to intervene on their behalf," she says, standing behind the group of pilots, taking a moment to glance down at Ax.

"Brux, Tago, take the injured Prince to the hospital wing on this level. Tell whomever is on duty that I will be along shortly. You," she points at Menderash, "should follow them. I will need your help if we're going to do this."

"Etain!" the Senator snaps. "This is--"

"_And_ I heard the absolutely shameful way you responded when they told you to leave the Andalite behind," the other Kelbrid finishes. The Senator huffs and then relaxes, flashing her predatory canines in what I hope is a sheepish smile.

"Senator Tui was deliberately trying my patience. Again." The Senator pauses, her tail twitching against the floor. Suddenly, she cocks her head to the side, "And _what_, exactly, were you doing eavesdropping on a Senate debate?"

"Oh, please. You eavesdrop on Piasun and me all the time!"

Suddenly, it's not a powerful Kelbrid leader and a fellow officer that we're watching, but two young _women_--well, you know what I mean--bickering back and forth.

"That's different. You all know what he's like!" She looks to the other pilots who are chuckling and nodding their heads. "I have to keep an ear out for my _beag-deirfiur_, and since we've broached the subject, our Father would roll in his grave if he could see how you two carry on!"

The pilots howl--literally, _howl_--with laughter and Etain's face is flushing brilliantly, the spots and rings scattered over her skin turning quite dark.

"Excuse me!" Jake shouts, his face red, a prominent pulse point throbbing at his temples. "But just who are you? What is going on here?"

The Senator holds up a hand and looks to the snickering group of pilots, "_Iolars_, you are all dismissed. However," and the pilots all pause, "I expect to have full reports by morning," she says. "Officer Ru-Reasach, you will stay." Ru stops mid-stride and nearly falls over again. Once the area has been cleared, Cerrid sighs and visibly relaxes.

"Now we may proceed," she says, and she undoes the clasps holding the collar of her uniform, or jumpsuit, or whatever it is, tight against her throat. The hard look on her face softens again and I'm struck by the way she puts on and removes masks, just like Jake.

"I am Etain, Chief Medical Officer of the _Juy-Il_," the younger Kelbrid says, turning her eyes and ears toward us.

"She's also my unscrupulous, philandering, _nosy_ little sister," Cerrid supplies, and Etain shoots her a disapproving look.

"Hmph," the doctor waves a hand between them and looks to me. "What the _illustrious_ Senator has said thus far is true; the procedure can be dangerous, and the number of failures far outstrip the successes. But..." She looks to the Senator who, with a nod of her head, concedes. "It wouldn't be the first time the crew of the _Juy-Il_ ignored protocol."

"And while I anticipate the fallout over this will be rather epic, the Senate has a way of eventually agreeing with me. Still... He _is_ an _Eirabalann_, Etain. I can handle a room full of angry politicians, can you handle your _ena_?"

Etain looks startled, drawing her head back slightly from her sister before looking at us again.

"I am a doctor, he is my patient, nothing more. I will be fine," she finally answers. "So, with your permission, I'd like to get the operating theater prepared. I also need to spend some time with the _nothlit_."

"Go, and _adh mor ort_," Cerrid says, touching her forehead to Etain's.

"I will not need luck, Senator, just knowledge and a steady hand," the doctor replies before turning and moving briskly toward the corridor that Brux, Tago, Mederash, and Ax had disappeared down earlier.

"All the same," the Senator says, more to herself than anyone else. She looks at us again, and offers a tight-lipped smile. "Etain is a brilliant surgeon, the best in our grouping," she says. "If anyone can bring the Prince back, it will be her."

"Why did you decide to help us?" I ask, still not sure just what changed the Senator's mind. She had seemed so hostile at first, and that whole scene with her sister was utterly confusing.

"Ah, appearances mean quite a bit to us, something your Andalite friends would understand--they share the same trait. Like many in my generation, I don't see the value in many of the Old Ways, but," she shrugs, "I operate in both the military and political spheres. I can't offend _everyone_ at once, or I'll never get anything done. Aside from all that, I do have a rather notorious temper."

She snaps her tail from side to side.

"I still can't say that I think it was the _right_ decision. But I know I will sleep better having made it."

"So how serious is the shitstorm headed your way?" Marco asks and I flinch at his crudeness.

"_Shitstorm_," she repeats, rolling the word over in her mouth. She tilts her head toward Ru and exchanges a few hoots and whistles with him. It looks like he's trying to explain the word to her.

"Ah, how... colorful," she concludes. "Well, Marco, the _shitstorm _is going to rattle a lot of windows, blow the same old trash my way, and leave a stinking mess in its wake, but I've weathered worse."

She motions for us to follow as she heads toward an archway that leads further into the ship. "The moment they allowed me to launch an offensive against the Yeerk ship, they knew how far I would push. Besides, it was only a matter of time..."

"Until what?" Jake asks, walking just behind the Senator.

She sighs and looks up, wets her lips and then looks back over her shoulder at us, "Until we had to face our past, face _them_."

"Who?" I ask, not really sure what she's talking about.

"The _Eirabalann_, the Andalites," she says simply.

"What, did you guys have a falling out or something? An old blood feud?" Marco asks, sarcasm worming its way through what would have otherwise been a legitimate question.

The Senator doesn't seem to have noticed.

"_'A falling out_?' I suppose you could call it that. And yes, it certainly involves blood, though not in the exact way you mean."

"Senator..." Ru says, looking nervous. "Do you think that... _Now_ of all times?"

"We'll have to wait and see; all things happen as they must," she says, and he looks slightly less perturbed. "Officer Ru-Reasach, do you think you can escort our guests the rest of the way to their quarters? I should really try and get Senator Finnideach alone to get a game plan together before the others call a _mod_."

"Do you think they will go that far?" he asks, mortified.

"Oh, I'm sure of it. They have to consider appearances, too, after all," she stops at an intersection in the hallway. "Post a guard outside their avenue, they are not to be disturbed. And you," she looks at our ragtag group, "if you desire _anything_, you need only ask."

I breathe a sigh of relief and finally allow myself to _feel_, and what I feel, wave after wave, is an intense, piercing, bone-deep exhaustion.

"The ship will adapt to each of your individual needs as it acclimates to you. For now, your living quarters are still designed for a Kelbrid. I hope you're not uncomfortable," she says before turning down the opposite hall, head low, pace brisk. She has much to do.

"Everything will be fine," Ru says, ushering us down the hallway that leads to our quarters. Both walls are perfectly smooth and I can't see any doors.

"I will open the suite for you the first time, you should find it easy to do yourselves after you've seen it done once," he says, stopping at what seems to be a random point. "Simply _think_ 'open,' or just think of the room, and..." he pauses, stares at the wall, and a ripple disturbs the smooth surface, _morphing_ into a wide, elegant arch. Lights brighten steadily inside, revealing a comfortable--if plain--semi-circle of little apartments, connected by a common dining area.

"When you've chosen your room, just ask the ship to bring up a wall in front if you want some privacy. So long as the ship is capable, and so long as your request does not break any laws or vital programming, it will comply to the best of it's ability."

Normally, we probably would have been impressed, and at least one of us would have wanted a detailed explanation of just how this technology works, but instead we thank Ru and plod towards our individual beds (they look more like huge, well-cushioned, papisan chairs). Jake's wall is the first to come up, and the rest of us follow suit. The ship almost feels _eager_ to do as we wish, and it is just as easy as Ru had assured us. I morph, aware, as always, of the 2 hour time limit. With little effort, I lift off the ground and find purchase on the back of what looks like a chair. It's not my favorite tree, but it's good enough for now.

Before I succumb to sleep, my thoughts return to Ax. He's somewhere inside this ship, maybe being prepped for surgery, maybe already being worked on. I can only hope that when I wake up, there will be good news waiting for me, for us.

We don't seem to get nearly enough these days.

There's something else nibbling at the back of my mind, pestering me to examine it further, but I don't have the energy. Whatever it is, it'll have to wait. I deserve a break, so whatever this paranoid thought is, I ignore it.

The lights in my room dim.

The darkness swallows me up.

At long last, sleep comes.

_Lyrics: "Wonderwall," Oasis._


	4. Simple Twist of Fate

The Kelbrid Chronicles

REDUX

---

_Gonna change my way of thinking,_

_make myself a different set of rules._

_Gonna put my good foot forward,_

_and stop being influenced by fools._

---

IV. Simple Twist of Fate

Cerrid

My name is Senator Cerrid Awen-Caoilfhionn, and for reasons I am still not entirely sure of myself, I have put my whole career on the line for a motley group of aliens to whom I owe no allegiance.

Perhaps I was simply looking for an excuse to piss the rest of the Senate off. They can be so terribly _boring_. There will always be moments in my life, like this one, when my military and political occupations clash. As an officer, it was a natural, easy decision to intervene, but as a Senator, I am expected to debate the issue _ad nauseum_ until it is too late to do anything at all.

One of the worlds I reside in moves quickly, decisively. The other is weighed down by tradition, by posturing, by outdated dogma.

But really, I wouldn't want it any other way. Because I am so young, and not the result of any noteworthy breeding, the Senate would normally relegate me to the sidelines, treating me as a Senatorial apprentice. I would have to wait decades before any opinion I might choose to levy would hold weight. But, because I also hold one of the highest ranks our military offers--commanding a state-of-the-art _Genpur_--they are a little afraid of me. When my word reaches the floor, it comes with an extra layer of experience, of _clout_.

They are also fearful of appearing to insult the entire military by disagreeing too harshly with me.

I try not to abuse my unique position. Matters of state generally hold little import to me. Let the old men argue about what day of the year the observance of _Imeacht _should be held on, or what to name the newest _Genpur_-_crootah_. But I refuse to allow crucial moments like this latest confrontation pass beyond our reach because none of the old fools can agree on _anything_ important.

"Well, my girl, you've certainly stepped in it this time," comes a familiar voice from just beyond the archway forming on the entrance wall.

"Senator Finnideach," I say, standing to greet one of the few practical Senate elders, my mentor.

He enters, moving with a slow stiffness that pains me to see. The tips of his ears and nose have gone white, matching the full mane of long hair that crowns his head, spilling down his shoulders where great bunches of it are gathered into braids and gold beads.

"Yes, yes, sorry to be so late. Those damn _aibi_ tubes leave me a bit disoriented," he says, chuckling to himself.

"Yes, we're the first to use them," I answer, closing the distance between him and touching brows in the traditional greeting between close friends and family. "They are exceptionally fast. Just something to get used to, I suppose."

"Ah, well, I don't think I shall have to worry about that," he says, taking a seat at the _stavo_ table.

"You shouldn't make light of such things, Finn," I chide gently, offering a bottle of _dearsacch._

"A lovely vintage, Cerrid, and under normal circumstances, I would happily accept," he says, "But we will both need our wits about us when they call the _mod_." I can see that speaking aloud is becoming increasingly difficult. Finnideach _is_ an elder, several times over, and his tusks--like all Kelbrid males'--never stop growing, not until death. His are so long that all vocalizations are exceptionally difficult.

/If you would rather.../

"No, no. I much prefer this way," he says, patting the top of my hand with his own. "I am a creature of habit, Cerrid. I will be jawing and carrying on until they add my ashes to the _talamh_, on the _Daigear-Il_."

More talk of death. I replace the bottle on its tray and shift some of the crystal glass around, enjoying the delicate sound they make against one another.

An alert sounds from my office, and it appears another delegation has sent their 'official statement' regarding the day's actions.

"Sons of _ifrinn_!" I swear, and dismiss the report as I have all the ones before it.

"Language, Cerrid," he says, laughing softly.

"If memory serves, you were the one who taught me the more colorful phrases in my vocabulary, Finn," I remind him, leaning back in my chair as it adjusts to my movement.

He shrugs and rubs his hands together, apparently ready to get down to business.

"The _mod_ will most likely focus on the intentions of our newest passengers. Many of the Senators are particularly upset about the _Eirabalann_. But I'm sure you anticipated that," he says.

"Hmph. Are they afraid someone will slip up and sneak a nibble?"

"This isn't a joke, Cerrid. The Ena are gaining power in the political arena. Don't pretend to be ignorant of that. They'll tell their followers that this is some kind of--" He spins his hand in circles, withered tail flipping against the floor. "--Some kind of _divine_ sign. They'll claim that now is the time to go back home."

"To what end, Finn? Hunting another sentient race for _sport_? The Ena can't possibly argue that we need to eat _Eirabalann_ for sustenance. We've long since found other, equally satisfying, sources of food--_unintelligent_ sources of food. It won't fly with the people. We've evolved."

Finn sighs and looks toward my office, the dark blue shift that rests on his shoulders wrinkling with the movement.

"I believe that, as always, you give them too much credit. The bloodlust…" He shakes his head, his voice dropping. "You know better than most that it wasn't ever truly bred out of us. We just shuffled the impulse to the bottom of the deck, that's all."

"Would you do it?"

"Hah!" he seems genuinely amused. "No. I'm far too old for such things."

"I am not, but I would never--"

"You? No, I doubt you would. But your _ena_…" He watches me, his gaze intense. "We _are_ killers, Cerrid, it is our truest nature."

"If that were so, we would have never left. For generations we have chosen to fight that part of ourselves. I can't believe we would so easily revert--" I hesitate, feeling the words catch in my throat like stones.

"You...You are my mentor, Finn. Whatever you think is the best course of action, I will follow your advice."

"Bring them to the _mod_," he says simply, running a finger along the rim of one of the glasses.

"_What?!_" I blink rapidly and push away from the table. "They wouldn't understand what was going on. Most of the Senators refuse to speak anything but _Ja-di _once in chambers. I'd have to have a translator. It would be disruptive."

"It will put a face on an abstract issue, Cerrid."

"What if Acras makes an appearance?" I ask, crossing my arms across my chest. This is a dangerous plan, but Finn has never steered me wrong. He is more clever than I can ever hope to be. If he sees a way to sway the mood of the _mod_ in our favor, whether or not I can see it too is moot.

"He is sure to. As I said, the Ena are gaining in popularity. Even if uninvited, that _thug_ and his followers will make sure to claim a seat." His gaze has gone soft, as it always does when Acras finds his way into a conversation.

"Yes, and if they manage to get inside chambers, I can't have two Andalites in a room with the damn savages!"

"You are so worried for the _Eirabalann_ and their human friends already?" He flicks his ears, looking at me quizzically.

"They are… They are not what we have been taught."

He snorts. "And what is it, exactly, that they are teaching you young people about _Eirabalann_? or humans, for that matter?"

"That they were--are--weak, stupid, lesser. But, if that were ever true, they have come a long way, Finn. They are not as helpless as we thought."

"Then they should have no problem facing Acras and his vile gang."

I nod, resigned to this unconventional plan, and send for my Communications Officer. Finn and I sit in a comfortable silence while waiting for the fidgety male to appear.

After a few moments, I hear him approaching, battle-trained ears picking up the heavy footfalls easily. I am still occasionally alarmed by how noisy non-combat personnel can be.

"Come in, Ru-Reasach Fiosrach." The use of his proper name will alert him to the presence of an elder. Citizens like Ru, even those working within the military, are often taken aback by the presence of a Senate Elder, and Finnideach _is _rather famous.

He comes in, the archway flexing open for him, his back straight as a board and eyes held just a little toward the ceiling. He wouldn't dare look a male of such rank in the eye, though I doubt Finn would have cared.

"How are our guests doing?" I ask.

"They, ah, slept for a few hours each, and have been to _stavo_," he says, swallowing hard. There's the tiniest shake traveling up and down his body. I wonder how long he would have to stand in so near to Finn before he'd faint.

"Ah, they... They are wondering about the fate of their, ah, friend, the injured Prince," he finishes, and I can see that he's trying hard not to pant, breathing heavily through his nose.

"Of course they are," I say, and look to Finn. "The _Eirabalann_ we took of the Yeerk ship," I explain.

"A _Prince_, no less," Finn states casually, nodding to me and looking amused.

"The Yeerks and the sentient anomaly we recorded ripped him to pieces. You should have seen the condition I found him in, disgusting..."

"Ah, but this is why I stick to politics, Senator Cerrid. I do not wish to ever see such things," he says.

"Senators," Ru says, regaining our attention. He sways on his feet and takes another deep breath. "They, ah, ah, would like to see him if it is possible."

"Give me a moment, and I will get a report from Etain," I say, turning my head away from both males. As the link to my sister opens up, I can hear Finn offering Ru a glass of _dearsacch_, and though it's a bit muddled now, I swear I hear Ru _yelp_.

/Etain. I need a report on the status of the _Eirabalann_./

I can feel her irritation at being interrupted. It seems she's still working.

/**The internal and external damage was terrible, Cerrid. If I **_**can**_** get his brain firing again, I have to have the rest of his body in sustainable condition. I've repaired his organs, closed up the major arteries, and we've loaded him with nanites to keep his system functioning artificially until his brain can take over**./

She goes silent for a moment, clearing her thoughts as they race between us.

/**Sorry about that. Where was I? Oh, right. Thankfully, he got here before his cellular structure deteriorated too much. The lack of oxygen may have created some damage, but I should be able to repair it**./

/Well done. I only ask because his friends are concerned, they want to know what is going on./

A flash of embarrassment and contrition flares brightly between us.

/**Of course they do! How stupid of me, I should have been sending them regular updates. It's just... It's an **_**Eirabalann**_**, Cerrid. I was distracted and--/**

/Believe me, I understand. What can I tell them?/

/**The prognosis is good, I think. When we stimulate the parts of the brain responsible for basic functions, they stay lit for a few minutes. I think that, with prolonged, continuous therapy, I can bring him back. I just can't risk doing so until his body can handle it**./

/If his friends wanted to come and see him--/

/**For what reason?**/ she asks.

/I haven't the slightest. They asked if they could, and while I don't see the harm in it, I thought it might be best to get my Chief Medical Officer's consent./

/**As long as they stay out of the clean zone, I can't see how it would be a problem**./

/Excellent. I'll escort them down myself. It will give me a break from all this nonsense with the Senate./

A spike of concern pulses from her end.

/**They're coming down on you pretty hard, then?**/

/Not hard enough to break me, I promise. Keep up the good work, Little Genius./

/**Of course.**/

She severs the link and I am left blinking a few times, shaking the feel of her from my head. It's always like this between siblings, especially when they are as close as Etain and I. When someone knows you as well as we know each other, the minds connect more fully and are slow to part.

"Officer Ru-Reasach," I turn to look at him and he almost drops the glass of amber-colored dearsacch from his hand. I give him a moment to compose himself. "Bring the humans to the operating theater on this level. I will meet them outside the entrance wall. Etain is still operating, but she has consented to an audience."

I look away from him, signaling that he should simply leave and do as I have instructed. He practically bolts from the room, bowing low as he passes Finn, nearly tripping in the process.

"Rather nervous fellow," Finn states, once Ru is gone.

"Yes, you seem to have that effect on people," I tease, throwing back what's left in Ru's glass.

"But not you, never you. Even as a child, you stood up to me. What was it you called me the first time we met?" he asks, amusement shining in his eyes.

"An '_incorrigible old fart_,' I believe."

He laughs, wiping the corners of his mouth, thinking back to that first day together. "Brat."

He leans back and sighs, knitting his fingers together, letting them fall on his lap. "Cerrid, no matter what happens tonight, I support your decision."

"Because you really agree with me or because you feel obligated to?"

"I trust those senses of yours. You have a keen intuition about people and their motives. I never had that particular gift. I can't say I would have done the same--bringing them aboard the _Juy-Il_--but," he looks up at the ceiling, "I believe I would have been wrong."

He rises, gathering the blue shift around him.

"Well, I'll leave you to your humans and your _Eirabalann_. Until the _mod_, farewell, Senator," he says, and comes around the table to touch brows with me before leaving.

My quarters suddenly feel void of all warmth. The _mod_ looms in my mind like a gathering storm, festering, septic clouds hanging overhead. But, like a storm, I can only brace myself and wait it out. Right now, the alien wards I have brought under my protection are facing a storm of their own; the outcome of which will decide whether or not one of their outfit will return to them or be lost forever.

This is the storm I choose to face first, not because it is any more important than the _mod_, but because it feels _right_ to be with them at this moment.

Finn is correct, I _do_ feel great concern for them, though I have yet to discern why. Somehow, the 'why' seems unimportant. I have always allowed for a great deal of instinct to drive my decisions, and at the moment, my instincts are telling me to do what I can for them. To _protect_ them, if they need it.

There will be time to wrestle with these thoughts and all that they imply later. It is only a short trip by _aibi_ to the hospital, but I would rather be the one waiting outside the entrance wall than the other way around.

I look at the bottle of dearsacch on the table, tracing a finger along the label.

"Oh, why not?" I ask the empty room, and give in to impulse, allowing myself another glass.

"To friends long since gone," I pour a portion on the floor, knowing the ship will absorb it once I leave the room. "And to those yet found," I toast the room and swallow the contents.

I allow the liquid to settle in my stomach, enjoying the lingering taste on my tongue. _Smoke and iron_, I think, and I feel a memory bubbling up to my conscious mind, triggered by the taste of the liquor. With a shudder, I remember the last time I had been inside a hospital wing. The scar on my back burns as potent as the dearsacch down my throat, and I block the rest of the recollection before it drags me too deep.

"Damn..." I whisper, before storming out of my quarters, leaving the glass rolling on it's side across the table.

I have no time for this.

I have a surgical theater to get to.

_Lyrics: "Gonna Change My Way of Thinking," Bob Dylan._


	5. The Worst Day Since Yesterday

The Kelbrid Chronicles

REDUX

---

_Give me a rusty ol' coat, well trampled and soaked,_

_until these ashes and blood mingle deep,_

_but don't let me die still wondering _

_what it was I left behind._

---

IV. The Worst Day Since Yesterday

Ax

My name is Ax, and I am finally _free_. I wonder if Elfangor felt the same way when Visser 3 devoured him. I cannot remember if I was there when my brother became a meal for a parasite.

I think not.

I can feel strings of memory breaking loose from the center of myself, or what is left of myself, floating away on imaginary currents of wind. I grasp for them, desperate to remain whole, but it is a battle I cannot win.

I am fading.

I recall the last, terrible moments leading up to the end of my life quite clearly. There is no mistaking what happened to me, no confusing it for something else. And though I cannot remember why, I know I was afraid of losing something, of being taken from _them_, whoever _they_ are. They were important to me.

Ah, there it is again; long arcs of wild, white light racing through me, pulling me back down toward the pain I have escaped. Making me feel _heavy_ once more. But I will not do as the light demands, I will not return. It cannot make me.

Here, in this in-between, there is no pain, no fear, no worry. The desire to be reunited with _them_ is blinking out. It doesn't seem so important anymore.

They'll get on without me.

Again, the tremors rip through me, and for an instant, I am fully aware of my physical self. It is cold and stiff, inferior to the way I am now.

"... longest sustained period yet," I hear an unfamiliar voice announce. The voice sounds proud of itself, _hopeful_, even.

But then, I am floating away from the fleshy, broken body I once called mine, happy to leave it behind. They'll have to let me go eventually.

The One did not let me go. The One, terrifying, endless, _brutal_, took it's time with me. Gave me to those filthy Yeerks to play with. They ripped me open, again and again, believing that inflicting such suffering on me would somehow make up for the destruction of their empire.

And The One, commanding a power unlike any that I have known, simply put me back together time and again, so it's minions could tear me apart. Burned, beaten, gutted, limbs pulled from their sockets, tail blade cut off, then used to cut the rest of me wide open... Over and over, for what seemed like a millennia.

Finally, _finally_, The One was not fast enough, and I let my life spill out onto the floor of the Blade Ship, great founts of life and memory and _will_. I gave in, I could take no more.

In those last, gruesome moments, over the sound of my rasping breath, I heard a voice in my head.

/Prince Aximili, if you can hear this, stay where you are. We are coming for you./

I did not know this voice and even if I had, even if it belonged to the person most important to me, I could not have complied.

Ruined, savaged, and beyond reach, I shuddered, exhaled, and died.

So sorry to have wasted your time, Unknown Friend, but I do not wish to struggle any more. I have done all I was meant to do.

But this Voice refused to leave me. I felt It fighting, fighting for me, felt the grim satisfaction It experienced as it destroyed the ones who had destroyed me, felt the sudden absence of The One when It arrived.

I felt It's arms dragging me away from that awful place.

/_Iolars! _Be ready to jump on my command. _Dustala_, move into position and on my mark, blow this fucking _heap_ to rubble!/

Tremors again, and I am reminded of my adopted California home. Palm trees, shopping malls, _Cinnabon_.

"... don't understand. The monitors all show optimum readings. He _should_ be coming back by now."

"I told you, Etain, it was too risky. We've gotten their hopes up for nothing."

The Voice! The Voice, but not inside my head. It is next to me, my body, looking down and shaking it's head, disappointed.

"So, he's really...?"

Marco!

"As I told you earlier, the failures far outnumber the successes. Sometimes, a soul cannot be coaxed back, no matter _what_ the computers say."

"There has to be something else you can try," says another voice, a voice used to commanding.

Jake!

Oh, I am happy to see that they are alive and safe. I am sorry that I will have to cause them more pain, but I cannot stay much longer. The drive to _leave_, to _go_, is stronger than ever now. It is too hard to resist. Whatever lies ahead...

It is better this way.

/Ax. / Blood like mine. /Ax, if you can hear me, come back./ Nephew.

The machines tethering me to the physical world all sound off at once, a noisy chorus that sends the living bodies in the room scurrying to find out why.

All but one.

/Don't you leave me too./

Don't leave like _she_ did, our brave warrior. Don't leave like my brother and his mate did, having been meddled with by a power far outstripping their own.

Do not make him an orphan again.

Don't you do it.

Don't you _dare_.

It feels like I am drowning, and though I can see light dancing on the surface above me, promising open air and _life_ if I just swim fast enough, the distance seems too great. An impossible length.

But, if nothing else, being an _Animorph_ has taught me to disregard labels like 'impossible.'

I will make it to the surface because I _have_ to, I need no other motivation. Lightning races through my brain and I feel myself, this core self, pulsing through my veins.

The waters part, and I can see the sun.

I inhale, nearly falling from the table, and then relax, muscles twitching as I sort them out.

/Okay, Tobias. I am coming back now./

_Lyrics: "Don't Let Me Die," Flogging Molly_


	6. Fight From the Inside

The Kelbrid Chronicles

REDUX

---

_It's all decided for us._

_The world has only one sweet moment_

_set aside for us._

_Who wants to live forever?_

---

VI. Fight From the Inside

Marco

My name is Marco and--ah, screw it--Ax-man is alive!

_Alive!_

Tobias is cradling his own head in his hands, held up by the long, wiry arms of the Senator. She caught him just as his legs gave out, I'm guessing the moment Ax responded to his thought-speak entreaty to _stay_.

Etain, the doctor, is shouting orders to her support staff, darting from monitor to monitor, making sure that Ax doesn't slip away again, that she gets and keeps him stable.

"His hearts are still beating erratically..." she switches to thought-speak, directing the information at Ax. /**I need to apply a low-intensity electrical charge between beats to restart the correct rhythm. This may feel strange**./

We watch as his body seizes up, then relaxes. Etain doesn't remove her eyes from the monitors.

"Better, but still weak." /**How do you feel, Prince Aximili?**/

/Terrible./

The Senator laughs, patting Tobias on his back and restoring him to his feet. "Yes, well, you look much better than when I pulled you off that ship."

"I'm going to order the nanites removed," Etain says, still all business. "It may be harder to breathe for a few minutes until you adjust."

/Okay./

He sounds beyond tired, and not at all like the exuberant, goofy friend I remember. I know he's a Prince now, and that the title comes with a lot of responsibility, but something isn't right.

What the Hell happened on that ship?

"Nanites deactivated. You'll cycle them out of your system within a week or so," Etain says, coming around the table, methodically working the various tubes and wires out and off of him.

"Is he sedated or something?" I ask, watching Jake's almost manic pacing out of the corner of my eyes. Why isn't he happy? Why hasn't he _said_ anything?

"Of course he's sedated!" Etain looks offended. "I'm not a _sadist_. He's been through quite a trauma. Until he's strong enough to re-morph his body and reset his DNA, I plan on keeping him sedated _and _on a generous amount of pain killers."

The Senator hoots at her, ears laid back against her head and Etain sighs.

"I'm sorry," she says, rubbing the top of her head. "You have _no_ idea how difficult getting him to this point was."

"Ah, but you'll finally get your name recorded in the medical annals, Etain. The first Kelbrid to successfully perform the _Dara-Cinniuint_ procedure on an _Eira--_An Andalite," the Senator says, attempting to purge the room of the tension I'd somehow stirred up.

She looks to me and a thought flies into my head, /I will explain as much as I can later. She did not mean to frighten you or to lose her temper./

"Etain, if you approve, I think we should give our Andalite guest some time to recover. I believe his First Officer, Menderash, and Tobias should have some time to speak to him alone," she says, and claps her jaws at the other medical personnel in the room, who take it as a dismissal.

"You can monitor his progress from your office, and the _aibi_ tubes can get you here in the blink of an eye should an emergency arise," she says, looking at her sister who seems poised to refuse.

"That is an _order_, Officer Etain Awen-Crionna."

Huffing with indignation, Etain lifts her chin and turns on her heel, storming out of the theater.

"At least explain to the Prince how to adjust the bed if he so desires!" she shouts over her shoulder.

"It's hard for her," the Senator attempts to explain. "She's much smarter than I am, but I hold rank over her." She looks to me, and then to Jake. "Perhaps Jeanne and Santorelli would like an update on Prince Aximili as well," she offers, her eyes following his pacing.

"Marco--" Jake starts, about to tell _me_ to go do it.

"Actually, Prince Jake, I would like to have a word with your second-in-command, if you don't mind."

He snaps his head around, and his eyes are actually _frightening_. The Senator doesn't so much as flinch, waiting for him to calm down, to reign himself in.

"I want to talk about The One," Jake states, "and what It did to Ax."

"I can assure you, I am as baffled by It's power and It's intentions--if It has any--as you are, Prince Jake."

"Then why did It stand down when you and yours showed up?" He asks, jabbing a shaking finger in her face. His rage, about to boil over, catches everyone off guard. Everyone, but the Senator, who only looks relieved that it's finally happened.

"I do not know," she says simply, tilting her head to the side. "I fully anticipated some kind of confrontation with It when I boarded the Yeerk Ship. I did not complain when It made no appearance. I considered myself incredibly lucky."

"But--"

/Prince Jake./ It's Ax, and though he sounds marginally stronger, the words are still obviously strained, like it's taking everything out of him just to string a sentence together. /The Senator... fought for my life, even when I had already... lost it./

"And I appreciate that, I really do, but that still doesn't explain--"

"I am sorry if you find my ignorance of The One's motivations for doing _anything_ It chooses to do unsatisfactory, but I cannot and _will not_ make assumptions or jump to conclusions with so little information. When your friend is feeling better, I fully intend to get a full account from him. I thought it would be polite to give him some privacy, some time to gather his strength, but if you would rather I _interrogate_ him now--"

"That's not what I'm asking," he says, a fist lashing out at the nearest wall.

"No, _asking_ would imply some sense of mutual respect, would imply manners and diplomacy. You, Prince Jake, currently possess all the social graces of a insolent child."

/Enough./ Ax again. /Prince Jake, please, stop. I can't--/

"Go back to the apartment, Jake," Tobias says, his voice barely above a whisper. He's still standing over Ax, still shaking from the shock of everything that's happened. Menderash is nearby, looking only at his Prince, ignoring the maelstrom that's swept the rest of us away. "You aren't helping here."

And Jake looks like someone's let all the air out of him, he actually looks like he's gotten smaller somehow. I suddenly notice just how dark and sore the half-moon bruises under his eyes are, how _thin_ he is, how drawn his face appears. He looks like he's got one foot in the grave.

"I--"

"It's all right. I know exactly how you are feeling right now, Prince Jake. I have been in that exact spot more times than I care to recall," the Senator says.

He looks to me for backup, but when he finds none, he nods and leaves the room, and I might have imagined it, but I'm pretty sure there were wet tracks on his cheeks.

What's happening to us?

/This is, in part, what I wish to speak to you about, First Officer Marco./ She motions with a toss of her head for me to follow her out of the theater, pausing at the long stretch of blank wall that every space seems to have, before an archway opens up, leading into a quiet, deserted office.

"This was Etain's, before I promoted her," the Senator says, absently. "Caused quite a stir... The Commander of a _Genpur_ ship promoting her own sibling--a much younger sibling--to such a position."

"She seems pretty talented, though," I offer. Whatever the doctor did to put Ax back together _and_ to somehow jumpstart his brain within the space of a few hours really is incredible and far beyond my understanding. When we saw him brought in on that gurney, he was absolutely _wrecked_.

"She takes after our mother," she says, and slides wearily into a nearby chair. The furnishings throughout the ship are, thankfully, made with bipedal users in mind, so though it's all oversized for us, the shapes are all right.

"Look--" I start, pausing when she holds up a hand, eyes half-lidded.

"I know," she says, sighing heavily. "You are all quite young, _too_ young to have gone through all you seem to have experienced. It's a shame, really." She rests her chin on the back of one hand, claws clicking together as she thinks. "It is hard to accept that, for whatever reason, you--amongst so many countless others--were chosen to carry this burden, to face these trials. I am aware of the war you fought with the Yeerks."

I nod, processing the information, sorting through it carefully. I can't help it, it's just how my brain works. There's no telling when I might need to recall some tiny kernel of intel, how crucial my decisions based on that intel might be, who might live or die because of it.

I'm the tactician. I'm not smarter than anyone else in our group, Hell, Ax corrects Einstein's theories for _fun_, but I am pretty good at strategy, of seeing _between_ the in-between. Plans within plans, feints within feints.

"Is there a reason the Kelbrids didn't get involved?"

She nods, ears turning toward me, eyes opening. That brightness is back, and she seems ready to fully engage once again.

"Politics. We make it a policy not to interfere in Andalite affairs, and the Yeerks were clearly an Andalite concern. It wasn't the choice I lobbied for, but I don't always get my way."

"You wanted to fight?"

"I _always_ want to fight, Marco. It's why I outrank Etain, despite the difference in our intellects. She doesn't have the impulse to seek out conflict. In our military, soldiers go looking for trouble to keep it from ever affecting civilians."

"Preemptive strikes."

"Precisely. We don't apologize for it, as we have no other choice. We are a voluntarily nomadic people. We have no planet to fall back to if things go badly for us out here. If a perceived threat shows up on our radar, we deal with it. Keep in mind, most other alien species, even space-faring ones, don't pose much of a problem for us," she says, and I can feel that we're circling around a larger issue.

The question slides into my head with alarming ease, like a seal pup on the ice.

"You keep yourselves separated from the Andalites, but that means they're not a threat. If they were--"

"We would have dealt with them a long time ago, yes," she says, ears twitching in what might just be the first show of nerves I've seen.

"Then why negotiate with them at all?"

"Ah," she says, raising a finger. "There it is. We have a history, one that I don't think the Andalites are even truly aware of, and if they are, it's boiled down to instinct now."

I take a seat on the other side of the room, wiping my hands on my pants. My mouth is dry.

"I'm not the kind of guy you beat around the bush with, Senator. I want to know everything."

She smiles, those teeth flashing again. "Of course. I'm sorry if I seem to be dodging your questions. I'm not accustomed to speaking about these issues. In fact, I'm legally and morally obligated _not _to, but that's neither here nor there."

She takes a deep breath.

"The reason we live as we do, spread out on _Genpur_ ships like the _Juy-Il_, without a home to find safe harbor in, is because our home is their home too. We _cannot_ go back."

"Your home is the Andalite home world?"

"Yes. When we were there, we called it _An_ _Garrai_, The Garden," she says, sounding wistful, as though she's talking about a saint she once knew, or a religious relic she once touched. "No Kelbrid living today has been there, nor has any for many, many generations." Sad, that's it, she sounds sad.

I admit, I'm surprised with this new piece of information, but there's nothing to be gained by showing it. Besides, I get the feeling there's a lot more left to tell.

"Why did you leave?" I ask, keeping my voice low, respectful.

"We had to. We were killing them in numbers that their population couldn't sustain. And the _ena_... It was out of control in large portions of our population. We--"

"I'm sorry, Senator, but I don't understand what you're saying here; killing who? What's an 'ee-nuh'?"

"The Andalites," she answers quickly. "They evolved those tailblades for a reason; and that reason was _us_."

"You... You _ate_ Andalites?!" I realize that I've stood up, and that I'm also shouting.

"We were part of the same ecosystem. Is it so surprising that an herbivorous species, with natural weaponry to protect itself, would have another species predating upon them?"

A few long, uncomfortable moments pass. This is usually the point when I'd crack a lame joke or do something similarly goofy to break through the awkwardness, but I admit, I'm at a loss.

"Partly due to their resistance to living in organized groups, the Andalites' sentience evolved more slowly than our own. We've always been social animals, working in large family units to make our way in the wild. This carried over naturally to more established, stable communities, villages, towns, and eventually cities."

She's staring at the ceiling, and something in her voice has changed. She seems to be reciting information that was hammered into her brain a long, long time ago. Like the multiplication tables, the Pledge of Allegiance, something you hear over and over until it can be recalled at will.

"As we became more _civilized_, the reasons for hunting the _Eirabalann_ diminished. We had integrated synthetic food into our diet and relegated any hunting expeditions to highly controlled, mostly ceremonial excursions. Enough to keep them from overpopulating, and enough to keep the _ena_ satisfied."

"There's that word again. 'Ee-nuh.' What is that?" I ask, taking my seat again, wondering if I really do want to know any of this after all.

"_Ena_, literally translated, means 'blood.' But we use it to refer more to blood_lust_ than what's pumping through our veins. It's like... Like being an addict constantly in withdrawal. We can control the urge, to an extent, but in some of us it can be quite strong. _Too_ strong."

She shakes her head and closes her eyes again, rubbing the spot between them.

"When a Kelbrid submits to his or her _ena_, they change. The parts of the brain responsible for higher levels of thinking are drowned out by the chemicals released by the parts that house our baser instincts; kill, eat, breed. This is the real reason why we left."

"I still don't--"

"A portion of the population, larger than any official record will admit to, tried to revive the hunts, to make them more _palatable_ to the general population. By this point, the _Eirabalann_ possessed the beginnings of true language, were living in small family groups, had established some simple traditions of their own. The official position of our governing bodies was that hunting a sentient or near-sentient species for _any_ reason was unacceptable, unlawful."

"But something went wrong that caused you to leave."

"Yes. Not every Kelbrid was happy with the illegalization of the _Eirabalann _hunts. They felt the government was infringing on their natural rights. Their upset manifested first as widespread poaching, then as a fringe political group. They called themselves _An Ena_, The Blood." She looks away, the rings and spots on her cheeks darkening. She's ashamed of this part of the story, that much is clear.

"They gained popularity at an alarming rate, and eventually, the hunts were reinstated. Things quickly spiraled out of control. We nearly wiped the Andalites out, but perhaps more distressing to us at the time, those Kelbrids who had participated in the slaughter were _devolving_, overwhelmed by--perhaps ironically--their _ena_."

I wait, not wanting to push.

"The final straw came from a team of genetic researchers. In trying to find a way to silence our _ena_ once and for all, they had followed it's evolution within the larger evolution of the entire planet. They found that, without a doubt, we shared a common ancestor with the very creatures we seemed so driven to destroy."

"You're _related_ to Andalites?"

"Distantly, but when you put us side-by-side, there are startling similarities. One branch of our family tree evolved to take advantage of our planet's lush plantlife. Another branch evolved to prey on the other. We were filling the necessary and available niches. With what we know now, most living planets evolve in a similar fashion. You, for example, are related to almost every living and extinct animal species on your planet."

"Christ," I sigh, sinking lower in my chair. "This is the kind of shit you only see on _Telemundo_." Smooth, Marco, real smooth. Here's this alien, exposing her people's deep, dark secrets to you, and you drop a Latino pop-culture reference. Brilliant.

She laughs a little but is interrupted by a drawn out yawn. A purple-black tongue curls behind her teeth, and I'm reminded of a chow-chow puppy I had seen in a pet store window somewhere in L.A. a few weeks ago.

"I apologize, Marco, I haven't had a chance to sleep since before we set out to intercept the Blade Ship. This story bears a full, lucid recounting."

"It's, uh, okay. I gotta admit, though, this is some seriously fucked up shit."

Again, she laughs. "And I must admit, I am beginning to form an unhealthy admiration for the swear words of your language. _Fucked up_, it's almost cathartic."

Something occurs to me.

"How is it that you all seem to speak English, anyway?"

"Ah, all members of the military must master at least 12 languages other than _Ja-di _to graduate from the various academies. English is, by far, the most simple and the most expressive. The Senate claims _Ja-di_ as the language of politics and ceremony, so we laid claim to English. It's easy to use and most find they can learn it with minimal effort."

"So we're the Layman's Language out here?"

"I guess you could say that, yes. No offense meant, of course. I hold simplicity in high regard," she says, mouth turning up into a smile.

"And what's with this ship? How does it respond to our thoughts?"

"The same way I can send a message into your head, and you into mine--at least while you're in morph," she says, as though this explains everything.

"I still don't--" and I find myself feeling foolish, for the umpteenth time, in front of her.

"I know, and I apologize," she says. "It would take another long conversation for me to explain, as this particular issue has, like most, a story behind it. Before I collapse right here in this chair, there are a few more issues I need to discuss with you."

"Go ahead."

"The first has to do why I chose _you_ to divulge all this information to. Your friends are floundering, and they are beyond any direct help that Etain or I can offer. You seem to be the most..." she hesitates. "Stable."

"Thanks, I think," I say, and now it's my turn to blush. "What should I do?"

"There is something we might try, perhaps after I grab a few hours to sleep, that could help. It will involve a great deal of trust on your part, though."

"I'm not sure how else to fix it, or even if it can be fixed," I say, exhaling slowly. "To be honest, I think I'm as messed up as Jake or Tobias or anyone else, I just--"

"Hide it better," she says, nodding. "As I said to Prince Jake earlier, I understand completely. I've been where you are. What I have in mind will deal with this. There are things I can _show _you, if you'll allow me, and things that you can show each other."

I nod, realizing by now that when the time is appropriate, she'll explain further. Unless it's a trait unique to the Senator, it seems the Kelbrids have a roundabout way of discussing _anything_.

"The second has to do with what I told Prince Jake earlier, about not knowing the intentions of The One. This is not entirely true. I have interacted with It once before, years ago. Again, there is not enough time for me to explain fully, but I can tell you that I do intend to discuss everything we know about it with all of you, once Prince Aximili is feeling well enough to participate. He is the only victim of The One that survived, at least to my knowledge. His recollection will be crucial."

She clears her throat.

"The last issue is the upcoming _mod_; a meeting of all the Senators within this sector of our territory, about 50, all told. I've been advised to bring you and your friends, the Andalites included, with me. You will likely be the topic of debate."

I shrug, it's not the first time we've been in hot water or had a group of stuffy aliens arguing over our fate. "I don't think that will be a problem, though I'd prefer Etain to give Ax a clean bill of health before he goes anywhere," I say, not really looking to leave any wiggle room on this point. I had the urge to grill her about skimming over the information she's been hiding concerning The One, but I know my position here.

I'm a relatively weak, powerless guest under the care and supervision of a powerful alien who commands a ship that can most likely put the best Andalite Dome Ship to shame. Besides, I don't get the feeling that she's doing it to be purposefully deceitful. Just careful.

"I agree and I promise I will not force him to attend if Etain does not think it wise."

"Okay. Great. So, you go take your nap and--"

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Marco," she says, eyes locking with mine. "You recall the political group I spoke to you about earlier, the ones who had the Andalite hunts reinstated?"

"_An Ena_, yeah, what about them?"

"They have experienced a resurgence lately. It is likely that their current leader, Acras, will show up to say his piece concerning Prince Aximili and Menderash. He believes we should go home and take the planet back from the Andalites. If that calls for their extinction, so be it, at least as far as he is concerned. We--" she makes a noise like a growl, and snaps her jaws in irritation. "--He and I have a _history_."

"Lover's quarrel?" I ask, smiling like the idiot that I am.

She laughs, a sharp barking noise that cuts through me. "Ah, not exactly. I hope to show you that particular chapter of my life later, after my 'nap.'"

"It's a date, Senator," I say, and offer my hand to her. Her larger hand slips into mine easily. We shake.

"The human equivalent of a head-touch?" She asks.

"Yeah, I guess."

She stands, and our hands break apart.

"I will come to your quarters in a few hours. Feel free to pass along what I've told you here to your comrades. I hope they take it as well as you have." She yawns again. "I have no ability to see into the future, but I strongly believe that you and yours will become great friends of mine."

She looks to the wall we passed under earlier, and an archway opens up.

"_Fucked up_..." she says to herself, chuckling. "_Shitstorm_ and_ fucked up_. Fantastic."

Yeah, I think there's a shot we can all get along.

_Lyrics: "Who Wants to Live Forever?" Queen_


	7. After All These Years

The Kelbrid Chronicles

REDUX

---

_Now that you know why you feel like you do,_

_they're turning their head whilst they wait_

_for no one._

_And finally I know why you feel like letting go._

---

VII. After All These Years

Jake

"I knew it, I knew she was hiding something," I say, bracing myself against the large table in the center of our living space. It's why she didn't want to tell me first, why she picked Marco, of all people. She knew I'd have questions that Marco would never assume to ask. He's too willing to think the best of people, to accept the first answer, no matter how incongruous it might be with reality.

"She's also a liar," says Menderash, having finally left his Prince's side to hear everything Marco had to relate. "There has never been another sentient species on the Andalite home world, and they certainly didn't eat us." He spits the words out with a level of disgust I haven't heard before.

Can't say that I blame him.

"I don't know. She didn't seem particularly proud of any of it, more like she was ashamed," Marco offers, standing with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, alternately looking at he ceiling and the floor.

"Oh, _come on_, you aren't that stupid, Marco. The Kelbrids left 'their' planet so the Andalites could live in peace? Don't you think Ax's people would remember something like that?"

"How could they?" The far wall opens up, and the Senator steps through, motioning to her long ears. "Can't be helped, I'm afraid. You should really learn to lower your voice, Prince Jake."

"Fuck you."

She continues her leisurely stroll around the common area, arms crossed behind her back.

"We left _An Garrai_ almost 70 million years ago. Your species, humans, haven't even existed that long. Why would you expect the Andalites to remember the scant few species that have shared the planet but, at least to their knowledge, no longer exist? It's preposterous."

"70 _million_ years?!"

She nods and approaches one of the chairs set up around the table. "May I?"

"This is your ship, Senator," Menderash supplies coolly.

"Yes, at least for now," she replies, stretching out on the chair. After having adjusted to our heights and builds, the chair takes a few minutes to return to its original shape. "We shall see if the Senate allows me to keep it after tonight's _mod_."

Without a word, we all join her; the Senator on one side, Marco, Menderash, Santorelli, Jeanne, Tobias, and myself on the other.

"I came here for two reasons; to answer any questions you may have, and to offer my help in mending the rift that is threatening to destroy your friendship," she says, parting her hands and laying them flat on the table.

"Marco said you told him that you'd encountered The One before," I start, wanting nothing more than to demand our release from the Kelbrid ship and leave these crazy bastards behind. But this isn't some bad dream I can rouse myself from if I just _wish_ hard enough.

Besides, where could we run that they couldn't follow? and what am I supposed to do when The One shows up, as I'm sure It will?

Too many questions.

"True," she says, nodding at me, and then at Marco. "I was very young, just out of _Calma_ Academy--a military school--and commanding my first real mission, but--" she turns her hands over, palms up."--It would be easier to show you, as I still do not fully understand what happened myself."

"What?" I ask.

"It will also put what is likely to happen at the _mod_ into greater context," she says, shoulders slumping. "This is not easy for me, Prince Jake. What I want to show you... I am beyond ashamed of what I did. I will be paying for my decisions the rest of my life."

Menderash inhales sharply, hearing the echo of his own words come out of her mouth.

"And you," she says, looking at him. "I am many things, but I am _not_ a liar. My people have suffered greatly to keep yours safe. We gave up everything, exiling our entire population to space long before we were emotionally or technologically prepared. I'm sorry if what I've told Marco upsets you, or wounds your pride, but we--I--would never fabricate such a story."

"I still can't--"

"Please, your hands. Join hands, connect the circle. Since this is the first time you'll be participating in the _Aon Intinn_ exercise, you'll only be able to watch, but that's all I need right now. Just watch, and do not think too badly of me when it is over."

Reluctantly, I reach across the table and take one of her hands in mine, annoyed by how small mine is in comparison. My other hand connects with Marco's, who joins with Menderash, and so on and so forth, until Tobias links with the Senator's remaining hand.

/Prince Aximili?/ she asks, eyes drifting shut.

/**I am here**_._/ He answers, sleepily.

/Can you link minds with Menderash or Tobias? What you see will be secondhand, but I'd rather you stay in the hospital until Etain releases you./

/**I will try**_._/

Tobias gasps and tenses for a moment, eyes squeezing shut.

"H-How?"

"The ship amplifies the mechanism that allows for thought-speak," the Senator says, and it seems like she's speaking from somewhere far away, her normally strong voice becoming thready, _weak_. "And I have a talent for this sort of thing, so that helps."

"_Dall_." She says, and our eyes all close involuntarily. There's a current running through us, making it impossible to disobey. Cerrid's mind is dominant, snaking through the rest, settling over ours like a fog.

It's dark. Utterly and completely dark.

"_Balbh_."

And I know I won't be able to speak until she allows me to, that none of us will have an audible voice until--

/Relax, Prince Jake. We can still speak to one another. The command is to keep anything we say _here_ from leaking to the outside./

I take a deep breath without actually breathing and wait, feeling the old rage building, like tongues of flame licking at my toes.

/_Mothu_. Feel. _Tuig_. Understand./

The world opens up again, rushing in like water crashing through a busted dam. Everyone is sweating, looking around wild-eyed and shaking.

We can _feel_ each other.

"Oh my God," Jeanne utters, blushing and looking at each of us before staring openly at Santorelli. "You..." She squints, as if she's never seen him before. "You?"

"Yeah," he says, mouth slowly edging up into a grin. "This is... Wow."

"We call this The Hidden World. It exists only in our combined consciousness. None of it is, in the traditional sense, real," the Senator explains, her eyes still closed, breath coming in short bursts through her nose. "After I show you what I need to, I will try to teach you how to use it on your own. It can help you understand one another more fully, to forgive, to _heal_."

The whitewash look of the space we're currently in--or aren't in, I'm still not clear on that--fades, revealing the same table and chairs that we were--are--sitting in. Everything else comes into focus slowly. Overhead, I can hear branches creaking in a gentle breeze, a multitude of leaves brushing against each other, '_shh-shh_', birds singing idly, water running gently over smooth stones.

"A combination of our favorite places, the places our minds retreat to when we are in a heightened state of emotion."

"It's Cassie's farm," I choke out, recognizing the barn we used to meet in, practice our morphing in, draw up our fragile little plans in.

"It's home," Menderash exhales. A red-gold sky streaks overhead, and _kafit_ birds fly on several sets of wings from tree to tree, diving into the nearby stream to spear a fish or two.

"The _talamh_ on the _Juy-Il_," the Senator adds, inhaling deeply and looking off toward a stand of grey-trunked trees capped with a cascade of brilliant purple leaves. "The descendants of what we scavenged from _An Garrai._ All that we have left of home."

"Paris," Jeanne breathes, looking across the nearby river where a cobblestone street flanks the water's edge, a quiet, empty boulevard faced with a few little shops and curbside cafes.

"My dad's place in North Dakota," Santorelli laughs, turning his head to appreciate the vast field of sunflowers swaying in the wind. "Yup. Traill County, North Dakota. God, I miss it."

"Rachel's house," Tobias adds, trying hard to keep the tears shining in his eyes from spilling over. "Dammit, it's _her house_." And it is, sidled up cozily to Cassie's barn, looking exactly the way I remember, the way Tobias remembers.

A quiet settles between us as we all drink in the sights.

/**_Cinnabon_**_!_/ Ax exclaims, and suddenly, yes, there's a Cinnabon stand nestled between Jeanne's boutiques and wine shops.

We all laugh, feeling Ax's delight ripple through us, a bright blue streak of joy. I never realized just how much taste meant to him until this moment. It was always funny to watch Ax savor some odd treat, even when it was the crud left on the bottom of an ashtray.

Just something else we take for granted, I guess.

"There will be time to explore this place together," the Senator interrupts, slowly looking away from the copse of trees. "But hopefully, by then, I will not be needed. This is an issue for The Animorphs to sort out, there will be no room for outsiders," she looks pointedly to Menderash, Jeanne and Santorelli.

"You were telling the truth," Menderash says, startled. "I can... I can _feel_ it. It's true, all of it."

She nods. "I can give you all the documentation you wish to see, Menderash, once this is behind us."

"Yes, I would appreciate that," he shivers. "What _terrible_ power." He blinks rapidly and looks to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"It's all right. Andalites are natural users of thought-speak. I expected that you and Prince Aximili would have greater access to my own mind. I take no offense. Now then..."

She takes a deep breath and lets her eyes drift shut again.

"When I was the equivalent of about 6 human years old, my parents were both killed in an accidental explosion on the _Orlaigh-Il_, the ship I was born on. Etain and I were technically orphaned, though Kelbrid families aren't structured the same way human families are."

The scene around us fades, and clear as day I can see two young Kelbrids, one beginning to lose the cute chubbiness all children seem to have and standing tall, chin raised, ears laid back. The other, smaller than her sibling, wails uncontrollably, looking to her sister for consolation.

"Stop crying, Etty," the taller child says, stamping one foot. "Do you want the others to think you're weak?"

"Don't care, Cer, want Mama! _I want Mama!_"

"She's dead, so you can't have her. Now _stop_ that crying!" she yanks her younger sister to her feet. "Crying won't bring either of them back. People die all the time, so stop acting like they were special."

The older Cerrid, the one sitting with us, speaks, "I was hard on her, but I knew even then that she was too soft. I was afraid that they would separate us into different Academies if she didn't toughen up. Our pack-siblings already refused to rough-house with her, afraid they'd hurt her."

"Pack-siblings?" Marco asks, looking on at the two young Kelbrids, one still crying, the other still trying to seem strong.

"All the offspring from a predetermined 10-year period are considered a 'grouping,' and are measured against one another for the duration of their lives. Groupings are parceled out into dens, the same dens the children's parents belong to, and the dens are further broken down into packs. Each pack has about 100-150 members, a quarter of those being children. The children are raised to treat each other as siblings. Though Etain and I are related by blood, the children in my pack are no less my brothers and sisters. Most of them work here, on the _Juy-Il_."

"So you weren't really left alone."

"No. Another family in the pack took us in; it is considered a great honor to do so. The patriarch of our adoptive family is Senator Finnideach, my mentor in the Senate, and a good friend of my father's."

The image before us shifts, and the children are older, one with her nose pressed close to a screen flickering with page after page of alien text.

"Etty, if you put your face that close, you'll go cross-eyed," calls the other, taller Kelbrid.

"Leave the Little Genius alone, Cerrid. We have sparring practice, we'll be late," another Kelbrid, a bit older than Cerrid, and definitely male, steps into the scene.

"Yeah, yeah, stop being so bossy. I don't know why you're so eager to go, anyway. I'm just going to trounce you again!" Cerrid shouts, darting off with the young male chasing after her.

"When we reach majority, we're tested by the various Academies, and sorted according to our strengths. As I feared, Etain and I were separated. She had no desire to fight, but her intelligence surprised even the most accomplished teachers in our society. She was allowed to choose her profession--a great privilege--and was shipped off to _Cogas_ Academy, the school for doctors, surgeons, and the like."

Images of the sisters parting, older still, fade in and out. The feeling of sadness, almost a physical pain, sneaks into my awareness.

"I did not want to shame my genius sister, so I committed myself fully to my own studies. I progressed through the military Academies, and with my domineering personality, I excelled."

The same male Kelbrid from before spars with Cerrid, and both appear to be fully grown. Cerrid pulls his feet from under him, but he manages to hold on to her, and both fall to the floor.

"Clumsy!" she chides, thumping him soundly on the chest.

"Or clever," he counters, wrapping his arms around her. She laughs and tucks her head under his chin, injuries apparently forgotten.

"You know what they'd say if they caught us, 'Ras," she whispers.

"We're not related by blood, what could they do?"

"You're still technically my brother. I care about you too much to see you kicked out of the military because of this," she says, sidling out of his grasp.

"My father wouldn't allow that to happen."

"Finn is a Senator, he can't protect you--_us_--forever," she gets back to her feet, tail twitching from side to side. Her face is flushed and she's trying hard not to look at him.

He spreads himself out on the floor, propping his head up on his arm.

"Our children would be ferocious," he says, smiling. "Just think about it. We could be the founders of a line of warriors that--"

"No, Acras," she says, snorting and looking away. "I don't want to hear about your delusions again."

He rolls over and gets to his feet, the energy between them having gone sour in an instant.

"I know you feel it too," he points a finger at her, the beginnings of his adult tusks peeking just below his lip. "All our lives they've told us we _can't_, but we know that isn't true. We _can_, we just choose to tuck tail and suffer out here. It isn't fair! It isn't natural!"

"We suffer, but are comforted by the knowledge that we are doing what is _right_," she snarls and exits the room, allowing the yawning archway to slam back down once she's clear of it.

"It gets worse," the real Senator assures us. "As much as I loathe to admit it, it gets much, much worse."

"But I thought you said that Acras--" Marco starts, sounding baffled.

"He does. This is what I'm trying to show you. How we got to the point we're at now, and how it all traces back to The One."

A new scene opens before us, the young Senator enveloped in what must be the pilot's chair in one of the crescent fighters.

/**We've been granted permission to intercept and board the Tradalai's ship. Control believes they might be attempting to transport weapons to their homeworld**./ It's Acras' voice, rougher around the edges, dripping with barely hidden contempt.

/Are we confiscating weapons or destroying them?/ Cerrid asks, willing the ship into a Z-Space jump, surprised by how fully she's bonded with it in such a short span of time. They'll be together for the rest of her military career, and she's thrilled that their personalities mesh so well.

/**Control did not specify**./

/What's the current R.O.E. state?/

/'**_Teams intercepting ships under embargo, suspected of transporting illegal weapons, or other contraband, are instructed to show an appropriate level of force, to be determined by the ranking officer present at the time of interception. Casualties are to be avoided when possible_**.'/ A beat, and then, /**I really hate playing at police.**/

/We all do, Lieutenant Acras, but we will abide by the R.O.E. Team _Alltamadra_, this is _Alltamadra-_actual. Form a perimeter around the Tradalai's ship. _Alltamadra-_2 and I will board and sort this out./

The memory jumps ahead, and both Kelbrids are now standing on the bridge of the aforementioned ship, surrounded by the ridiculous looking Tradalai aliens. Shaped like beach balls, and covered in Pepto-Bismol pink fur, they scurry about, only coming up to the shins of the tall, elegant looking Kelbrids.

"Mindless idiots," Acras sneers, kicking one of the little creatures to the side.

Cerrid sighs, looking around the ship. "That's hardly appropriate, Lieutenant."

"Why should we care what these _mionduine_ do, anyway?" He asks. "What kind of weapon could they possess that could possibly threaten _us_?"

"You know that they're only dangerous when they gather in large numbers," she steps toward the controls, easily brushing a Tradalai away. It doesn't look too upset and quickly finds something else to occupy itself with. "_Individual organisms who function independently, but always as part of a single, larger organism,_" she recites, keying into the ship's various system.

"Under normal circumstances, they're harmless. But if they've decided to start stockpiling weapons, we should be concerned. It means that something has gotten _all_ of them interested, and is important enough to induce this kind of activity."

"I didn't know they even had ships," Acras says, joining her at the controls.

"They rarely use them. Most of the time they're happy enough to gather food, breed, _et cetera_. We suspect that whatever technology they have, they've scavenged it from other species. They don't seem particularly motivated to leave their own planet most of the time."

"So that's what's gotten Command so riled up," he says, brushing shoulders with her. She can tell he's trying to control himself and calm down. He thinks it's what's keeping her from being with him, but it's so much more than that.

Acras was right that day in the sparring room; their children _would_ be fierce, but it would lead to nothing but destruction. Together, they would create _monsters_, not heroes.

"It looks like they've got something sealed away in a central chamber. I can override the locks," he says, ignoring the Tradalai gumming his left calf.

"I think that one likes you, Lieutenant," Cerrid jokes, peeling the indignant creature off of him.

"Let's just get this over with and get out of here," he growls, wicking the moisture off with his tail. "Disgusting."

"Copy that," she replies, and they wade through the floor of scurrying, fuzzy little aliens toward the room they had observed on the ship's schematics.

It doesn't take long to reach it, though the walk to the chamber has proven, beyond a doubt, that the Tradalai did not build the ship they're currently piloting. All of the locks are several feet above even the tallest of them, and to open one, they have to stand on each other's heads, scrabbling with underdeveloped flippers for the buttons that lock and unlock the various doors.

"You know, they're kind of cute," Cerrid remarks absently, shooing a cluster of them away from the doorway of the room they'd been looking for.

Acras appears disturbed and shakes his head. "Females are strange," he decides, and flicks a claw at the unlock button, the door immediately sliding open.

Both Kelbrids gasp as though the wind has been knocked out of them and stumble back from the threshold.

"_An realta_..." she swears, trembling all over. "What _is_ that?" She's never felt fear like this before, almost paralyzing in its depth and scope. Her legs give out.

Something inside the room pulses and the hallway grows perceptibly darker, like the light is being pulled away. The Tradalai are panicked now, squealing and running as far and as fast as they can. She realizes that Acras is still standing, staring into the _darker_ than dark room, mouth hanging slightly open. Through the link they once shared as siblings, she feels pain--distant, but white hot--lance through him, though he makes no outward show of it.

"Lieutenant?" she asks lamely, struggling to her feet. Again, fear washes over her, choking her. "Acras?" she manages. "_Acras?!_"

He turns to look at her and she breathes a sigh of relief. "Close that door, Lieutenant, and--"

Without warning, he lunges at her, sharp teeth bared at her throat. Though he catches her offguard, she still manages to deflect the worst of the blow, the force of the impact sending her staggering back into the wall behind her.

"What?!" she shouts, before he throws an elbow to her head and the world spins on it's axis.

Something inside her, something dark and _old_, breaks free.

We all watch as the two childhood friends and would-be lovers fall to the ground, a mockery of their playful sparring, and attempt to tear each other limb from limb. He gets the upper hand, lifting her by her neck and _throwing_ her into the room.

She hits the floor hard and tumbles, slamming into something sharp and metallic. She tastes blood in her mouth.

A roar, as fearsome and wild as any lion's, erupts from her lungs and she charges at him, fully intent on killing him where he stands. She takes him to the ground, claws digging deep into his chest, hot black blood bursting around her fingers, knuckle deep in Acras' flesh.

He sinks his teeth into her shoulder.

She rips a handful of muscle and tendon from his right leg, crippling him.

Cerrid cries out and pulls away. She stands, breathing hard, wiping blood from her mouth and hissing at him. She's slowly regaining control. He's watching her from the floor, furious, but the wild, angry light that had being burning behind his eyes just moments before is dying down.

"I..." Her voice is hoarse. "I don't--"

Then something _wet_ seeps into her mind, and somehow she knows it's source is the same as the white-hot pain that had touched this madness off.

I know that sick caress, that clammy dampness that conjures images of decay, of indifferent, careless _death_.

"Cerrid," it's Acras, struggling to stand on his one good leg, clutching the side of his head. "Cerrid, _run_. Get... Get away. _Run!_"

"But--"

The dark, wet thing wrapping itself around her mind _squeezes_, and she feels the rage that she had just managed to quiet flare back to life.

"A-Acras!" she gasps, pushing the instinct to fight, to kill, down as far as she can, reaching for the door.

But he isn't as strong as she is. He submits, and moves in for the kill, her back finally turned.

It doesn't hurt, her body already overwhelmed by the pain of her earlier injuries, but she feels the effects immediately. Her legs give out again, only this time she knows there will be no getting up. Blood drips noisily from his hand,_ pat, pat, pat_ on the floor. A growing pool of black liquid spreads around the deep gash across her lower back.

Then, with a feeling she can only describe as _satisfaction_, the ugly, foreign force inside her head pulls back.

Acras shakes his head vigorously, covering his face with hands stained with her blood. He puts too much weight on his ruined leg and collapses, wheezing, blood-tinged spit gathering at the corners of his mouth and nose.

Plans change, she concludes. Whatever this thing is, it cannot ever escape this ship.

/_Iolars_,/ she calls out. /Team _Alltamadra_, this is _Alltamadra-_actual. _Alltamadra-_2 and I have been over-run. Situation is too hot for evac. This is your commanding officer, and I am ordering you to pull back. _Dustala_, move in and destroy the ship./

No one argues with her, they know better than that. She feels the surprise and regret of her pilots, all of whom she and Acras grew up with, scrapped with, trained with, and had hoped to die with.

/**Copy that, Captain.**/

_I will find immortality in the hearts and minds of my brothers, my sisters, _she tells herself, watching Acras out of the corner of her eye. _I have only one regret, and one is not so much, really_.

"It's gone," Acras says, looking at her with sudden horror. "Cerrid, I didn't--that wasn't me. I would _never_--"

"Yes you would. We all would. That thing didn't put anything new inside of us. That is the _ena_, unleashed. _Tch, _foolish brother," she breathes, smiling weakly at him from her prone position on the floor. "You still don't understand, do you?"

"No," he says, struggling to draw closer to her, blood now running freely from his nose. "How much time do we have until the _Dustala_ arrive?"

"Minutes," she answers, closing her eyes. "I can't feel my legs, 'Ras."

"I'm sorry, and I promise to visit you in the hospital while you recover, and I'll take all the blame for whatever went wrong here today, I swear."

She laughs, then chokes on her own blood. "What hospital? I nearly ripped your leg off, Lieutenant. No, we're going to die right here, like good soldiers."

"For once in your life, Cerrid, just _back down_!" And somehow, he rises to his feet. He hooks his arms under hers and pulls, drags her out of the room, away from the grotesque, shapeless _thing_ that had poisoned them against each other.

It takes him exactly two minutes and 53 seconds to get her back to her ship. He leaves his behind, cramming himself in alongside her, fighting against the urge to just pass out and let it all be done with.

"Get us out of here, Captain," he commands, knowing that her ship won't respond to him no matter how desperately he might beg.

She pulls away from the Tradalai's vessel sloppily, stumbling along until she manages to make a short Z-Space jump. The _Dustala_ pilots, relieved that their friends have gotten out in time, proceed to destroy the doomed ship, firing their invisible weapons again and again, until not even dust remains.

"It is at this time that I believe The One first escaped into open space. If we had known the ship had been built to _imprison_ it, we would have never--"

The Senator releases us from the memory and we all fall back in our chairs, breathing hard.

"When we returned to the _Orlaigh-Il_, Acras kept his promise and took the fall for what happened. He testified that I fought only in self-defense, and that the entire confrontation started when I attempted to stop him from killing one of the Tradalai. Neither he nor I ever mentioned the _thing_ we found in that room. We both assumed it had been killed or destroyed."

She wipes her eyes, ears hanging so low they brush her jawline.

"He was stripped of his title and rank and cast out by his family--the worst punishment a Kelbrid can receive, aside from death. We crave the companionship of our families like Andalites crave open air, open fields. He was devastated. We never exchanged a civil word after that. It was like dealing with a completely different person. I no longer knew him. He blames me, I know..." she trails off.

"Anyway, after we were both released from the hospital, I realized that neither of us had fully recovered from our injuries--"

"Why is that strange?" I ask, watching the play of shadows cast by the trees scattered around us.

"Like our Andalite cousins, and humans, to an extent, our DNA is morph-compatible, naturally so. While we cannot absorb other species' DNA and morph them at will, we can alter our own genetic code, some better than others. Almost every Kelbrid can at least heal itself by resetting a particular string of code and _shedding_ the injured body part."

"But you can walk, so..." Tobias starts, confused.

"Thankfully, Acras did not completely sever my spine, but the injury did have a temporary paralyzing affect. Once Etain patched me up and the swelling went down, I regained all sensation and control in my lower body. But there's a scar. And Acras..." She shakes her head. "He will never regain the smooth gait of a healthy Kelbrid."

"You think The One was responsible," I offer, chewing on my bottom lip.

"I think It left It's mark on us, and I think that's how It recognized me when I showed up to rescue Prince Aximili," she says. "I also think that It gets stronger with every life It absorbs. The power It demonstrated in It's interaction with you was far greater than the borderline awareness that I encountered."

She pulls her hands from mine and Tobias', and The Hidden World dissolves, revealing the dining area that had been there all along.

I feel dizzy, and drained of energy, but the anger that had been fraying my nerves before is gone.

/You cannot walk this path alone, Prince Jake. Like you, they are not children any more. They can carry their own weight, face their own demons. They must, and you must let them./

My eyes drift to the Senator, who is looking at me, _seeing _me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like it's going to be okay.

"What do you think It wants?" Marco asks, shaking me from my private reverie.

"Other than to continue growing stronger and more aware? I don't know," the Senator admits, leaning back in her chair.

/**I think**_..._/ Ax starts, /**I think I should join you, Senator. There will be time to rest later, when I am old**./

She smiles.

/Spoken like a true _Eirabalann_, Prince Aximili. Just allow me to convince Etain that it was _her_ idea. She can be quite territorial about these things./

"Senator," I stand and come around the table, motioning that she should remain seated. This is, after all, my moment to apologize.

"I know we've all been through a lot, yourself included, but that's no excuse for my behavior. We've been _used_ so many times, by so many different people, that I just assumed you were out to do the same. You saved Ax, you stopped me from getting us all killed, and you've brought us into your ship--no, your _home_--without reservation."

"Oh, it wasn't entirely without reservation. Besides, you were only being cautious, and that isn't necessarily a bad trait for a leader to possess, Prince Jake. I bear you no ill will. Let us leave the past where it belongs," she finishes, and stands.

She puts her hands on either side of my head and pulls me toward her, our foreheads touching briefly. A spark flies between us, pleasant and warm, and then she pulls away.

"The _mod_ will begin in a few hours. You should all get some rest. Officer Ru-Reasach will come down before it begins to serve as a translator."

"They're gonna speak that Jedi stuff, right?" Marco asks, sauntering toward his bed.

"_Ja-di_," she says, chortling. "And yes, they will.

"And that Acras asshole is gonna be there, yeah?"

She rolls her eyes. "Probably."

"Would you be angry if I slugged him for you?"

"Why in _Stairn's_ name would you do that?" she asks, exasperated.

"Because no one beats up my friends and gets away with it," he answers, before dropping heavily into his bed.

I laugh, and it's a real, belly-deep laugh. It feels _great_.

"Thank you, I'll be here all week!" Marco shouts, and then promptly falls asleep.

"Is he always like that?" the Senator asks, looking at me, wearing a lazy smirk.

"You have no idea, Senator," I reply, heading up to my own room. "Absolutely _no_ idea."

I don't fall asleep right away, curling up inside the nest-like bed, allowing my thoughts to come to me. Usually, I fight them off, refusing even the most innocent dreams to expose the subconscious fears and desires that plague me.

But the Senator is right, I have to deal with _my_ issues and leave everyone else's alone. The war was unfair, and asked too much of us, but it happened, and there's no going back, no undoing what's done.

Turning my face into the soft cushion of the bed, I let it all loose, let it rip me apart so I can finally start to put myself back together.

As if it were capable, the ship seems to react to my quiet sobbing, and the bed begins to rock gently. Imagined or real, it doesn't matter; I feel better.

And the fact that I'm feeling anything at all, anything other than the dangerous _numbness_ that I had preferred for so long, well...

That's a victory in itself.

_Lyrics: "The Greatest View," Silverchair_


	8. Cold, Cold Heart

The Kelbrid Chronicles

REDUX

_---_

_He's got a broken voice and a twisted smile._

_Guess he's been that way for quite a while._

_Got blood on his shoes and mud on his brim,_

_Did he do it himself or was it done to him?_

---

VIII. Cold, Cold Heart

Tobias

My name is Tobias, and while it might seem like we're all on the mend, I can tell you; I'm still a fucking mess. There's just so much shit to sort through and never enough time to do it.

In the span of a few hours I went from feeling like my last real connection to the world had been ripped from me, to suddenly having him back, to sitting a stone's throw from the one place I never wanted to see again and simultaneously never want to leave. I've had to confront my very small, very insignificant place in the universe. I watched--with barely hidden enjoyment--as Jake had a meltdown, and _Christ_, what kind of person does that make _me_? I'm still trying to process just what the Hell the Kelbrids _are_, and then, let's not forget, there's an allegedly omnipotent alien "anomaly" running around out there, doing God knows what.

Jake's still sleeping, has been for hours now. Sleeping like a goddamn newborn, happy, secure, apparently having made peace with the world despite the nightmare he lead us all into, knowing that some of us would never wake up.

He _killed_ her, make no mistake.

He killed her so she could kill his brother. And if she'd somehow failed, don't even entertain the notion that he would have stopped, turned tail, took a fucking minute to _think_ and figure out a way to win that didn't involve some suicidal attack. No, he would have dragged his finger one bullet lower on the list and sent the next name headlong into battle.

_Good luck! Thanks for volunteering! We'll erect a lovely statue of your likeness after you get torn to pieces, or blown up, or decapitated. _

A win's a win, right?

I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him, or understand his decision. But I guess none of that matters in the here-and-now. I can never get her back. Seems like love and tragedy always show up hand-in-hand where my family is concerned. We're lucky like that.

"Yo, Tobias, stir your coffee any harder and you'll break the cup," Marco says, coming up behind me and slapping me a little too hard on the back. He pulls the spoon from mug before I can tell him to mind his own business.

"It's not coffee. They don't have coffee here becau--"

"Yeah I know, I'm not an idiot. I just have a hard time getting my mouth around some Kelbrid words. To many 'ch's, and stuff," he says, sticking the spoon in his mouth. "Oh, hey, that's not bad."

"Warm _dearsacch_, it--"

"Heh, deer sac."

"Yeah, hysterical," I say, deciding not to explain to him that it's a pretty potent liquor. Ru had poured me only half a cup, worried that my 'human constitution' wouldn't be able to handle a full helping. Warming it up helped burn some of the alcohol off, but just a few sips in and I'm feeling a little light-headed.

"Jake still catching some Zs?" Marco asks, moving the spoon over to one side of his mouth. He plops down in a chair across from me, putting his feet up on the table. He wiggles his toes. He is, as always, utterly ridiculous.

"Apparently," I shrug, and push the mug over to him. "Here, have the rest."

"I was worried about him there for a while. He was starting to look like that bug-eyed guy from _Lord of the Rings_. You know, the one in the loincloth?"

"Gollem."

"Yeah!" He laughs and takes a long pull from the mug. "Burns a little on the way down, but still damn good. When we get back home, I gotta try talking the Kelbrids into letting me market this."

"When we get back home..." I shake my head look up toward the far-away ceiling. "You so sure we're gonna _get_ back?"

"Of course we are, we always do," he's looking thoughtful, scratching at the 5 o'clock shadow growing haphazardly around his mouth and chin. "The Kelbrids seem pretty capable. I'm sure we'll get this whole mess with The One sorted out in a few months. Six at the most."

"I don't know, Marco, I think--"

"Hey!" He jumps up from the chair, his eyes no longer on me or the _dearsacch_, but on the wall opening up behind me. "Ax-Man!"

I'm up in an instant, turning around to watch Ax enter the room, hooves clicking delicately on the polished floor.

/Marco! Tobias!/ He's leaning heavily on Etain, one arm draped over her shoulders. She's strong enough to serve as a buffer against the heavier bulk of his body, but I can tell she's not cut out for manual labor of any sort. She's exhausted, panting a little.

Marco and I lead him in the rest of the way, leaving the doctor to sort out the kinks that have settled at various points along her spine.

"You must forgive me, Prince Aximili, I'm afraid I spend more time with my nose buried in research than I do staying fit," she says, nearly breathless. "A terrible habit, terrible..."

Looking at her, you would never guess she was out of shape. In fact, not a single Kelbrid we've seen looks even slightly overweight or fragile. They all have the same sleek build, with only the density and size of their muscle mass changing. I'm pretty sure that, if a situation called for it, even Etain or Ru could hold their own in a fight.

/Nonsense, I am the one who is nearly falling down on his feet, and I have twice as many as you do to stand on./

She laughs, heading back toward the doorway. "I'll leave you to continue resting here with your friends, Prince Aximili. If you need anything--"

/I promise to call on you. Do not worry, I have great faith in your skills/, he says, and I swear it sounds like he's _flirting_ with her.

She shakes her head, slipping under the closing archway. "Be careful, Prince Aximili, I would hate for Piasun to overhear such talk. He's the jealous type."

Ax's eyes crease upwards into what I've learned to interpret as an Andalite smile.

/I like her./

"Her people eat yours," I remind him, getting him settled onto one of the chairs that has now quickly morphed into something more comfortable for an Andalite.

/I know, but humans eat all kinds of animals, and most still trust you, still enjoy your company./ He keeps his main eyes on me, but the stalk eyes are moving constantly, sweeping the room. He's not the bumbling little alien kid we found at the bottom of the ocean anymore. He's a real soldier now, a real Prince.

/Besides, it would be impolite to treat her in anything other than a friendly way. She saved my life, as sure as Senator Cerrid did./

It's only now, with Ax sitting still, all the machines that had been hooked up to him in the hospital removed, that I notice the scar. A jagged, ugly line reaching from the top of his left shoulder down across his chest. It's raised, like a piece of twisted rope, a blue-black lightning bolt etched into his skin.

/Ah, that/, he says, following my gaze. /A mark not too dissimilar from the Senator's. Something for The One to remember me by. Or at least that's the theory. No matter how often I 'reset' my DNA, it remains./

"Didn't It, like, absorb you or something?" Marco asks, once again sipping at the _dearsacch_.

/I believe It wanted to. When I was first captured, It almost did. I felt some small part of myself disappear into the center of It. I can still feel that piece missing./ He shivers.

/But It has followers now, and as impressive as The One is, even a God's worshipers need some kind of acknowledgment from whatever it is they worship. They wanted me more than The One did, so he pacified them./

"You don't have to talk about it," I offer, not really wanting to hear the grisly details myself.

Ax shrugs, a habit he's picked up from us, I'm sure.

/My past doesn't haunt _me_, Tobias. I am alive, I am more-or-less whole, and I have been reunited with my friends. I can resume my duty to my people./

Marco takes this as his cue to leave, muttering something about needing a shower and a shave. He dips under the archway, calling for Ru.

"I just miss her, that's all." There's no point bandying words with Ax. He's my _shorm_, he's family.

/As I miss your father/, he says. /But missing someone does not mean you should feel angry at the people who survived./

"He _sent_ her there knowing that she would--"

/Rachel was not an innocent bystander, Tobias. She was not a saint. Do you think she was unaware of the danger? Do you think that there was any point during the war where her life was assured? She embraced her role as a warrior, a soldier. She knew. She _knew_./

He tilts his head a little, the heavy blade of his tail clunking against the floor. He's frustrated.

/I have always been 'Elfangor's little brother,' always the youngest, always a set of eyes on me, keeping me safe. But now I have you to look after/, he says. /Rachel's death was not Jake's fault, and it is not his fault that he survived while she did not. You will accept this in time. What will be harder, perhaps hardest, for you to accept is that it wasn't _your_ fault either./

"I don't--"

He holds up a hand, eyes closing briefly. He's trying to be patient with me, trying to find a way to make me understand. But the truth is, I don't _want_ to understand. Being angry gives me a reason to get up in the morning, gives me something, anything, to take a little of the edge off.

I mean, if I'm not angry, then what am I?

/It is not a shameful thing to be sad, Tobias. She was... like a mate to you./

"We never--" I manage, and not without a great deal of regret.

/That's not what I mean. You were bonded, you belonged to each other. It is natural for you to feel like you should have protected her, even when doing so would have been impossible. No matter how strong or independent the female is, the males of our species will always feel like they should keep them safe, that they--/

"Should die instead of them."

/And that's what this is all really about, isn't it?/

"Well, think about it, Ax! Rachel had a family, had friends, had a future. Save for you, I'm alone already! Why didn't he send _me_?"

"Because you wouldn't have been able to do what she did," Jake says, standing not two feet behind me, awake. "I needed you elsewhere."

"Bullshit," I spit, turning around in my seat so I can see him.

"Rachel was my family, Tobias, not my middle school _crush_. She was the best person for the job, and if I had chosen someone else, and they failed, don't you think she'd be sitting here, right now, demanding to know what kind of _monster_ would send her best friend, or her boyfriend, or some fucking paraplegic kid off on a suicide mission? I was going to lose no matter what I decided to do, so I sent her because at least with Rachel I knew we had a shot."

"That wasn't your decision to make!" I search the surface of the table for something, anything to hurl at him, but I find it disappointingly barren.

"Yes it was! You all made me your leader, time and again. Or do you think you could have done a better job?"

I'm on him in an instant, fists flying wildly. He throws me off and pins me, but I get one of my legs free and plant my foot in the center of chest and push him off, long enough to get back to my feet. He steadies himself and charges at me, both of us crashing into the archway-wall. I land a nice uppercut to his jaw. He slugs me in the stomach.

Then Ax is between us, still wobbly on his feet, but fully prepared to keep us apart by force if necessary. His tail curls over his back, the scythe-like blade at the end hanging low enough for both of us to see.

/Enough./

I spit a wad of blood out of the corner of my mouth, wiping the excess on my sleeve. My heart is pounding and my stomach is still recovering from Jake's assault.

"Are you okay?" Jake asks, rummaging around his mouth with his tongue. "Damn, you knocked a tooth loose, Tobias."

"I'll live," I answer, my head humming with adrenaline.

"That was long overdue," he admits, nodding to himself. "Are we--"

"Not even close," I head back to the table, wondering if Ru would be kind enough to bring me another cup of _dearsacch_. I could use a stiff drink. "Better, but there's still a lot for us to work out, Jake. A lifetime of shit."

/Can I trust that you two will not try that again for a while?/

"I'm cool," Jake says, sliding into the chair furthest from mine.

"Whatever, yeah, I guess." I admit, it felt really, really good to hit him. It doesn't exactly balance the scales, but I feel a little lighter.

Silence settles in the suite, broken occasionally by Jake's quiet grunts as he prods his loose tooth.

We all look up as the archway stretches open, voices floating in from further down the hall.

"No, seriously man, there is so much I could help you with. I have this friend in San Diego, he's a patent attorney, and he--"

"_Dearsacch_ would be lethal to humans in any large quantity, Marco. Officer Ru-Reasach should have never given you any. If I did not have that _suicar_ injection at hand, you would probably be unconscious right now."

"Ah! Senator, I, ah, didn't think such a small helping would hurt them, I would, ah, never--" Ru stumbles into the room, walking backward while facing Cerrid.

"I know that, which is why you aren't being demoted." She peers over her Communication Officer's shoulder, nodding at the three of us sitting at the table.

"Princes Aximili and Jake, Tobias," she smiles, but I can tell it's forced. She's preoccupied with other matters. "The _mod_ will begin shortly. We've had fresh clothes manufactured for you, if you care to change."

Jeanne and Santorelli stroll back into the room, deep in conversation. Looks like they've been out exploring the ship. Menderash is nowhere to be found.

"Unless you insist, Prince Jake, I would like to keep our guest list as short as possible. The other Senators are not accustomed to alien observers, and seeing Prince Aximili will be quite a shock. Officers Jeanne, Santorelli, and Menderash are advised to remain in their quarters until we return."

Jake looks to the two poor saps he talked into coming along on this mission, neither seems upset by the idea of being left behind.

"No objections from me," he says. "Ax, Menderash is your First Officer..."

/He and Captain Uasul are going over the documentation you gave to him, Senator. I think he'll be occupied for quite some time./

"_Stairn_ help us, Uasul alone with a willing pupil," she sighs, throwing her hands up dramatically. "An excellent pilot and officer, but positively _unbearable_ once he gets going on Kelbrid history. I hope Menderash is blessed with deep wells of patience."

"Just give me a minute to reset my clock," I say, standing up. The change comes quickly, human body dissolving into a common red-tailed hawk. A moment to gather my thoughts, and then the transformation reverses, returning me to the body I was born in.

"I don't think I will ever, ah, get used to watching that," Ru stammers, cringing.

"Well then, Ru-Reasach and I will wait outside while you tidy up." The Senator ushers Ru out of the common room, lecturing him about the virtues of keeping one's opinions to oneself.

***

A few moments later, and Marco, Jake, and I have all changed. The clothes are plain (and a little too big on me), but comfortable. The Senator appraises each of us in turn, nodding her head in approval.

"Much better. You don't look nearly as savage as before," she winks and motions for us to follow, arms crossed behind her back.

"If you have any questions about the _mod_, now would be the time to ask. I expect to be questioned thoroughly once session is in order, and I will not have time to explain much to you. Ru-Reasach will translate as much as he can, but these things can become heated, _confusing_ to those who aren't used to them."

"Any word on Acne?" Marco asks, tucking and then untucking his shirt from his pants, apparently indecisive about which way looks better. He's gotten used to wearing clothes tailored specifically for his body.

"Acne? You mean _Acras." _She sighs and looks knowingly at Jake who only shrugs in response. "Yes, he has petitioned the Senate for the right to speak, to represent _An Ena_. They were still debating the matter when I left my quarters."

"Who can we count among our allies?" Jake asks, rolling his shoulders.

"Senator Finnideach, certainly. Bringing you along was his idea, and I must say, he is most excited to meet you, Prince Aximili."

/I am honored/, Ax says, pointedly ignoring the open staring of the few Kelbrids wandering the halls.

"Senator Toim and his delegation also sent word of their support earlier. Tui, though difficult to deal with, will likely side with me because he represents a clan with a large military population. There are a handful of younger Senators who share my views. And, of course, there are always a few who want to appear powerful and righteous by association." She shakes her head, "Politics, bah."

"I've been saying that for years, Senator," a new Kelbrid, shockingly white, joins us, walking in stride with Cerrid.

"Captain Uasul, I see you've managed to pry yourself from your student, I am surprised," she teases, nudging him with her shoulder.

"Ah, but to see history being made, what more could I ask for?" He replies, laughing quietly. His tusks reach beyond his lower jaw, making him one of the older Kelbrid's I've seen. Middle-aged, perhaps, or at least fully matured.

Bird-bright, royal blue eyes focus on us. Completely unlike the largely metallic-colored eyes we've seen so far.

"So, what're you, like, some kind of Arctic variation? A Polar Kelbrid?" Marco asks, still fussing with his clothes. Jake and I both groan simultaneously, but the Senator only laughs.

"I don't understand," Uasul starts, looking to the Senator for clarification. "_Arctic variation_?"

"They think your coloring is a kind of," she takes a deep breath, forcing herself to stop laughing, "environmental adaptation. To blend in with a meteorological phenomenon called 'snow.' It's common on their planet."

He snorts and looks at Marco. "Then to answer your question, _no_, I am not."

"The Captain is an _aondath_, one without color. I believe you call it albinism."

"A condition that is not without a few bothersome social prejudices," Uasul adds, shaking his head. "But I believe most would hold their tongues in my case, unless they wish to lose them." He snaps his jaws, sharp teeth clicking against each other.

Marco chokes and begins to apologize.

"Don't mind him, Marco. Captain Uasul has a twisted sense of humor," Cerrid says, playfully smacking her pilot upside the head. He feigns injury.

"I am merely a product of my environment, Senator."

"Yes, well, the environment aboard this ship is about to get decidedly more hostile." She stops, facing a long stretch of largely unremarkable wall. "We're here. Captain..."

He nods. "I've alerted Brux and Tago, they should be here shortly to keep watch with me."

She focuses on the wall, the archway beginning to open when he grabs her arm.

"Cerrid--_Senator_--Be careful," he says, and though I believe she's ignorant of it, I can tell he cares more about her than his position dictates.

She smiles, "Of course. Alert me when Acras arrives, and if anything else unusual occurs. Until the session is out, you are in command of this ship, Captain."

We head inside, entering a wide, circular room. It's not exactly what I had expected. I thought the Kelbrid Senate would look something more like, well, _our_ Senate. Instead, Kelbrids of various ages (and mostly male) stir about the room, moving from group to group, some laughing, others arguing. Quite a few are eating. An ancient looking female appears to be _napping_ on a large pile of pillows.

It looks more like a wedding reception than an official political gathering.

Slowly but surely, the room becomes aware of us, attention drifting from the Senator to Ax, who stands proudly, tail held like a scorpion ready to strike. History in the making, indeed.

"Senator Cerrid, Honored Guests, welcome, welcome!" A regal looking male steps through the crowd, and touches brows with Cerrid, who seems relieved to see him.

"Senator Finnideach," she answers, pulling away from him slowly.

"Ah, and you must be Prince Aximili! The Senator and Dr. Etain have told me so much about you," Finnideach shuffles forward, immediately drawing his forehead to Ax's, who accepts the touch graciously. To touch an Andalite's face is an incredibly intimate gesture, and I know that any other member of Ax's species would have recoiled at the gesture, possibly leading to great insult. It would have certainly made a bad first impression. My uncle takes it all in stride.

/And they have both told us many great things about you, Senator Finnideach./

"Hah! Have they now? Well I shall have to inquire about what tales they've told you, both of them have been known to exaggerate--"

"Senator..." Cerrid warns, pursing her lips together.

"Females, you know," he chuckles, leaning toward us as though divulging a monumental secret. "Always gossiping."

"Oh, come off it. You're the most notorious gossip in the Senate," she retorts, and the entire chamber, hanging on every word, laughs with approval.

I realize now that the whole exchange had been carefully orchestrated. Both Senators have managed to break the ice, turning an anxious, possibly angry crowd into more pliable, rational people. Potential friends. Receptive to new ideas.

"Yes, yes, comic stylings aside, we do have important matters to discuss," another male Kelbrid, similar in age to Finnideach, but missing his regal bearing, announces from the center of the room.

"Senator Tui is correct," Finnideach admits, nodding to the other male. "Senator Fiain," he calls, and the ancient-looking female I had seen earlier rouses herself from her heap of pillows. "My lady, if you could prepare the room."

She yawns, grumbling irritably to herself, and presses a shriveled looking hand against the wall behind her. The entire space shifts, tables, chairs, even her pillows melting into the floor, before row after row of plain benches sprout up like spring flowers.

"It is done," she says, taking a seat on the row closest to the rear wall.

The assembled Senators take their seats. Cerrid leads us to the front of the room, where a small circle of flooring has been raised up by a foot or so.

"Relax," she says. "So far, it is all going as planned. Just be yourselves, and answer all of their questions honestly. They'll know if you're lying."

Ru stands beside us, watching as Senator Cerrid steps up on the platform.

She speaks in _Ja-di_, a mixture of throaty words, hoots, and whistles. Ru translates as best and as fast as he can.

"You all know what I have done, and my reasons for doing it," she starts, her voice even and powerful. "You know how I feel about the ideology of _An Ena_. For anything you do not know, or do not understand, I now open the floor for questions." She crosses her arms behind her back, the tip of her tail curling and uncurling, over and over.

Senator Tui stands, clearing his voice loudly.

"Senator Cerrid, we were all here when you demanded permission to intervene on behalf of the humans and the _Eirabalann_, but what we've yet to understand is _why_ you felt it was crucial for us to do so."

"Is the ability and opportunity to save a life not reason enough?" she asks.

"Not when saving that life breaks a treaty we have worked hard to maintain," he answers immediately.

"No one broke any treaty. Prince Aximili was brought into our territory against his will by a powerful, and dangerous being who calls itself 'The One.'"

"But there was an Andalite on the Yeerk Cruiser, traveling with the humans," he states, waving a finger at her.

"He is a _nothlit_, and chose to become human permanently. Our treaty is with the Andalites, and Menderash, technically speaking, is no longer an Andalite."

"You speak of _technicalities_! Senator, you have put our people at risk, and theirs as well! How will we return the _Eirabalann_ to their people now? You exposed that one," he points to Ax without looking at him, "to _forbidden_ technology."

"I honestly didn't think it would work. I should learn not to underestimate my sister," she says, shrugging. A ripple of agreement moves through the crowd. Apparently many of the Senators are familiar with Etain and her achievements.

"And the one called 'Menderash,' I have heard you gave him several different texts on our history," he accuses, his voice rising.

"Not just texts. I gave him some of the vid-tutorials left over from my days at the Academy. Specifically, the ones dealing with our shared evolution," she corrects. "He was quite surprised to learn that our two species are related, however distantly."

Tui's jaw is hanging open and he looks around, waiting for anyone else to be offended by Cerrid's confession.

/May I speak?/ Ax asks, taking a few steps forward, stalk eyes turning to Senator Cerrid for permission.

"I see no reason why not--"

"I do, I see _many_ reasons," another voice, somehow familiar, shatters the relative calm of the moment. Several Senators stand, baring their teeth and hooting angrily.

"Acras," Cerrid breathes, "I was wondering when you would show up."

"Yes, well, your faithful guard dogs delayed my grand entrance, but alas, all my paperwork seems to be in order," Acras sneers, walking slowly into the room. Though he's gone through great pains to conceal it, his limp is evident.

"What is your purpose here, Acras-Bhacai Rioga?" demands Finnideach, who's looking none-too-pleased that his wayward son has made an appearance.

"Ah, including me in the family again? How kind of you, _althair_. How thoughtful."

Finn clenches his jaws, huffing with agitation.

"I am here, obviously, to represent the people's wishes," he finishes, stopping a few feet in front of Ax.

"Disgraceful," he spits, turning to look at the other Senators. "Allowing these hallowed chambers to be sullied by mere _bia_."

"They are not _food_, Acras, and have not been for 70 million years. You are lobbying for a reality that no longer exists." Cerrid steps down from the podium and plants herself firmly between Acras and Ax. The message is clear; _To get to him, you must get through me._

She has drawn a line in the sand, as it were.

"And I would hardly categorize the delusional aims of your pathetic rabble as 'the people's wishes.' A bit presumptuous, even for you, Acras."

He growls and snaps his teeth at her.

"Tiger?" Marco whispers to Jake.

"If he tries anything," Jake answers. He turns his head toward me and nods. I feel my heartrate increase, my body already anticipating the morph back into a bird of prey. The ceiling, like all of them on this ship, soars high above our heads. More than enough room for me to work with.

Ax's tail twitches.

Yeah, let the sonnofabitch try something.

"I'm sorry, do the aliens wish to contribute to this discussion?" Acras barks, looking past Cerrid to us. "Or do they simply not teach polite behavior on that backwater _prochog_ you call home?"

"That's enough, Acras," Cerrid states, her tail lashing wildly behind her.

He stares at her for several long minutes, until Finn reaches out boldly, trying to coax him away.

"Now, now, Acras, we must try not to get carried away--"

"Get your hands off of me," he snarls, twisting out of Finn's grasp.

He whirls around, facing the assembled Senators who have been made plainly uncomfortable by the family drama playing out before them.

"And what of you? Will you be cowed into silence simply because you lack the courage to stand up to her? 'The Tyrant of the Senate,'" he roars, something silver flashing in his hand before he spins back around.

His fingers are wrapped around the hilt of a dagger , a curved, deadly thing.

"I will not let you destroy us!" he hisses, darting forward, the edge of the blade aimed for Cerrid's throat.

Already mid-morph, I hear something _bellow_, a sound that moves through you, like the deep, wild cry of a charging bull elephant. When my vision clears, I take to the air, diving for Acras, who has already been pinned by Jake's tiger, the dagger wrenched free from his grasp by a furious gorilla, an Andalite tailblade held under his throat, blue-black blood oozing where Ax drew too close.

Ru is at the archway, yelling for Captain Uasul, helping Senator Fiain open the door, which is apparently meant to remain sealed.

I look for Cerrid, and spot her bent over the fallen body of another Kelbrid.

Long white hair, decorated with a few gold beads, is stained with blood.

_Finnideach_.

It was Finn that had made that terrifying noise while I had been morphing. Looking to protect his adopted daughter, he took the blow meant for her. His life had drained out of him on the Senate floor in a matter of seconds.

By instinct, the hawk knows he's already dead.

Chaos has broken out amongst the Senators, many of them now rushing toward the archway wall. For now, I pay them no mind.

I land next to Cerrid and morph back into my human form. She's shaking with grief, or maybe rage, I can't tell. Her head raises slowly, and that vicious, lethal fire I had seen behind her eyes only once before, in the memory she showed us, is raging out of control.

She screams, reaching for the discarded dagger, desperate to enact revenge for being twice orphaned.

"Cerrid!" I grab her by the shoulders, ignoring the fact that she could easily shred me apart. Her eyes meet mine, and I recognize the all-consuming grief clouding them. I pull my head to hers, not really sure what to do, but pouring every notion of common experience, every relatable emotion, into the connection.

_I understand._

_"_He..." She whispers, choking as tears track down those high cheekbones.

"I know, but not like this, it won't mean anything if it's like this."

The archway slams open and Captain Uasul, Brux, and Tago storm in, slowing to a stunned halt when they catch sight of the bloody spectacle at the head of the Senate room.

"What in the name of--" Uasul starts, before switching his attention to Cerrid.

"_Iolars_, escort the Senators to their quarters. Make sure they each have a guard posted outside their doors. Appoint only those you trust absolutely," he orders, helping Cerrid to her feet.

"What is this?" he asks, shocked.

"It all happened so fast," Tui mutters, stumbling down from his row of benches. "We were discussing the _Eirabalann_, and then Acras, he..."

"He _killed_ him, killed his own father. Shame!" It's Senator Fiain, shouting over her shoulder while hobbling out of the room, assisted by the badly shaken Ru. "A disgrace to his clan! May all shame be his, _an fealltoir_!"

"Are any of you hurt?" Uasul asks, looking to each of us, his eyes lingering on what must be, to him at least, the most exotic, impossible creatures imaginable.

/We're fine/, Ax states, pulling his tailblade a little tighter against Acras' throat.

Cerrid, finally regaining her composure, takes a step away from Uasul, and looks down at Finn's body.

"_Guapholl Racan,_" she croaks. The remaining Kelbrids all suck in their breaths, and Tui nearly collapses onto the nearest bench. The entire chamber goes silent, only the sound of her heavy breathing breaking the sudden stillness.

Acras laughs, and it's the high-pitched, maniacal laughter belonging solely to the insane.

"Oh, Cerrid, my dear," Tui says breathily, abandoning all of his previous Senatorial posturing. "You can rest assured that this murderer will be held fully accountable for his crime. There's no need to resort to _that_." She turns one ear toward him and snorts.

"_Guapholl._ _Racan_. It is my right as his superior officer."

"He was removed from the military years ago, and this was not a military offense," the older Kelbrid starts. "It would be inappropriate, _Gar-Inion_--"

"_Gar-Inion?_ Ha! How could she be his favorite, she wasn't even _his_," Acras sneers, before Marco twists his arms a bit more, causing the prostrate Kelbrid to cry out between clenched teeth.

"Shut up, _salachar_," Uasul barks, his formidable jaws snapping dangerously. "Give me an excuse, just one, and I'll rob both the Senate _and_ the Senator of their jurisdiction over you."

"What a faithful dog you've become," Acras says, wheezing. "Tell me, Cerrid, have you and the _tallan_ spent many nights together, as we once did?"

"_Freak_, eh?" He shakes his head, crouching low over the pinned lunatic. "How predictable of you, still the same schoolyard bully from the Academy."

"That's quite enough! I will not stand for anymore of this barbaric behavior in chambers. Put an inhibitor on him, Captain, and throw him in one of the holding cells on this level," Senator Tui says, wiping the sheen of nervous sweat from his brow.

Cerrid is leaning over the cold body of her mentor. She drags her fingers over his eyes, pulling the lids down. "Do you think this changes anything, Acras? Do you think you've accomplished something here, by attempting this foolish plan?"

"I have put something in motion that will set us _free_," he grinds out.

She sighs and sits back on her haunches, her eyes half-lidded with a heavy, palpable sorrow.

"I will not argue with you over petty legalities, Senator Tui," she says, looking up at him. "I claim my right to enact _Guapholl Racan_."

"Cerrid--"

"I need not remind you that this ship is mine, and all who have ever called it home are my responsibility." She stands, and motions for Ax to lift his tail so Uasul can fit the inhibitor--what appears to be a simple, silver collar--around Acras' neck.

"Acras both served under my command, however briefly, and made the _Juy-Il_ his home." She moves toward him and Uasul steps aside, nodding curtly to her.

/You can release him now, Prince Jake, Marco... Prince Aximili. The inhibitor interrupts all motor functions. He can hear us, he is fully aware of his surroundings, but he is effectively paralyzed./

Reluctantly, the three of them pull back, Jake and Marco slowly demorphing.

"Military law, at least in this case, trumps any opinion handed down by the Senate," she continues wearily. "Article 422 states that a ranking officer may call a current or former soldier who served under his or her command to answer for their crimes if those crimes directly threatened the safety of the superior officer or any other soldier who is serving or once served that officer."

There's that nearly photographic memory, once again showing how well she's memorized the rules and regulations that keep the military machine running.

"But the Senator was never a--"

"Really, Tui. We all know that Finn wasn't the target. Isn't that right, Acras?"

Frozen on the floor, he cannot so much as twitch. But I strongly suspect the question was rhetorical.

"Then, he came here for...?" The older Senator nods slowly, finally putting it all together and once again sinks into the nearest seat. He is shaken, his gaze distant. "What is happening here, Senator Cerrid?"

"Acras would have us believe it is the beginning of a revolution, but a pig strung with pearls is still just a pig. Any member of _An Ena_ who does not surrender to us will be put down."

She breathes deep and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, I can see she's back in control.

"Tui, I suggest you and the other members of Senate take refuge on _brea'Tintean-Il_. It will probably be the last place the Ena are able to infiltrate. You will be safe there."

"Of course, of course." He wipes his hands on his shift, and swallows hard.

"Before you depart though--" she says, glancing once more at the body laying on the floor, "--could you call for Etain, explain what happened? She'll want to be there when they prepare the body for it's return to the _Daigear-Il_."

Senator Tui nods, and says something in _Ja-di_. He looks at Finn's body.

"Farewell, old friend." He leaves, looking decades older than when we first met him.

Satisfied for the time being, Cerrid helps Uasul drag Acras to his feet. She hesitates a moment, then brings her mouth to his ear.

"_Guapholl Racan_. I will see you in The Pit, _brother_," she releases her grip.

"Put him under constant watch, Captain. Once the paperwork is in order, I will deal with him in the military fashion; with my own two hands."

She strides out of the room, leaving the nightmare that has erupted around us in her wake.

Uasul grunts and lifts Acras by the scruff of his neck, taking him out of the chamber and off to God-knows-where. Kelbrid jail, I guess.

Aside from the corpse, we're left alone. A few minutes tick by, each of us waiting for the other to say something. As usual, it's Marco who breaks the awkward silence.

"...the _fuck _just happened?" he asks, staring blankly at the pool of blood that has formed around Finn's body.

What the fuck indeed.

_Lyrics: "Broken," Norah Jones_


	9. Unchained

The Kelbrid Chronicles

REDUX

---

_The beast in me _

_is caged by frail and fragile bars._

_Restless by day,_

_and by night rants and rages at the stars._

---

IX. Unchained

Cerrid

_Guapholl Racan_, the oldest of our surviving traditions. I cannot recall the last time it was invoked. Understand, we're a pack species, and packs have strict hierarchies. Long before our modern military infrastructure was developed, _Guapholl Racan_ existed as a way for pack leaders to enforce their dominion over their subordinates, to eliminate rivals.

But there are rules governing it's implementation, more now than during the days we still prowled _An Garrai_.

But, as I have already explained to Tui, the conflict between Acras and myself more than meets the necessary criteria, however stringent they might be.

_Guapholl Racan_, a "pit fight." An opportunity to show my new friends just how savage and lethal we Kebrids really are.

He will die, and I will be the one to do it. Should I fail--_unthinkable!_--he will be exonerated, utterly forgiven for his crimes. Rest assured, I will wrench his life from him as swiftly, as brutally, as he stole Finn's.

_Finnideach!_

Now twice robbed of a father, I am thankful only that Finn's lifemate, Miranta, passed years ago. In death, they will be reunited. How he missed her!

"I am happy for you, _althair_, though I will miss you every day that I still breathe," I promise to the empty air of my personal quarters. The bottle of _dearsacch_ that I had offered him earlier is still sitting on the table.

"Say hello to _cead-althair_, and _cead-mathair_ for me, and for Etain." The image of little Etty crying for our mother rises like an unwelcome phantom in my mind. I felt the same grief she had that day, but I could not, _would not_, show it.

Why? Why must I always play this part; the strong, unfeeling leader? What is it that drives me to cling to my position, still eager for higher status, greater renown? Instinct? Greed? Some peculiar brand of idiocy, perhaps?

One of the small crystal glasses crashes against the far wall, rage swelling in me like the rising tide.

Would Finn want this? Want me to butcher his son as the crowd looks on, to have all traces of him erased from our records? Would he want me to take the life of one I once loved?

"Damn him!" I curse, pulling up at the edge of the table, demanding that the ship let go of it. The _Juy-Il_ relents, but I can feel it's concern for me, it's trust in my leadership wavering. I throw the table over, finding a strange satisfaction in the crash and roll of it, contents spilling everywhere, shattered crystal catching the overhead lights, a swath of tiny, distant stars scattered across the floor.

"Cerrid," the archway is opening up, and Uasul steps in. I know immediately that he's not here as my second-in-command, nor as a fellow pilot. He's here as a pack-sibling, he's here to mourn the loss of one of our own, the greatest Kelbrid to rise from our clan.

His eyes are distant, unfocused. It seems we're both just beginning to understand, to _accept_, what has happened. His hair, pale gold and usually impeccable in it's arrangement, is mussed, hanging over his eyes, a long, loose thong of it trailing down his back.

"Finnideach was--" His jaw works, but no words follow.

_Finn! Such a loss!_

Understand, a clan is like a nation, and the leaders who take charge of that nation are like princes, or prime ministers. They are, with few notable exceptions, beloved, cherished and celebrated. Finnideach was much-loved by _many_ clans, respected by many of his fellow princes. His death will leave a ragged wound in our world, one that none can ever hope to heal.

"Cerrid, are you sure that this is what you want?" Uasul asks, finding his voice again. He steps around the mess I've made, pressing his palms to either side of my head as I work to catch my breath.

"When have you ever known me to demand something that I am not sure of?"

"I know, but it _is_ Acras. Perhaps if we allow some time to pass, put some distance between what has happened and what should be done about it--"

"No. He stuck a knife in his father's gut, watched him bleed out on the Senate floor. _The Senate floor_, 'Sul!"

He nods and pulls my head to his, those strange eyes looking deep into my own.

"I am, and always will be, your friend, Cerrid. I am with you."

"As my highest ranking subordinate, you will be expected to oversee the event. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course," he says quietly, his ears dropping just a hair.

He pulls away from me, not daring to initiate a link with his commanding officer. Friends, yes, but we have both come of age within the military. The rules, the clear lines that divide our ranks, must be honored at all time. Even on days such as this.

"Before you bring him down there, I want to ask him a few questions," I say, sending out a mental apology to the _Juy-Il_ for my childish tantrum. The table is righted, the ship connecting it to the rest of the floor once again. The broken crystal and spilled _dearsacch_ are absorbed into the porous ground, to be recycled and transformed into something new.

"What could you possibly want to know?" Uasul asks, incredulous.

"I want a reason. I want to know why he hates me so much. What did I do?" Another question, one I don't dare ask aloud; _it can't just be because of what happened on the Tradalai ship, can it?_

"He's _insane_, Cer'. He doesn't need a reason," he growls, running a hand through his hair.

"Still, before I face him in The Pit, I need to at least attempt to draw an explanation out of him."

"I still can't believe he brought a weapon into the Senate. I should have checked him more thoroughly, if I had--"

"Don't follow that string of thought, Captain. We all accepted that Acras' views were bizarre, and his behavior even stranger, but no one thought he would disregard the law so..."

"Boldly."

I sigh and gather what strength I have, willing myself to keep going, at least for a few more hours. At least until Acras' corpse is laying at my feet.

"I shall see you outside his cell, then." Uasul hesitates a moment, appearing to have something else to say, before thinking better of it and leaving me.

"Yes," I answer. "Outside his cell."

---

"Answer me, _marfoir_," I hiss, throwing Acras' pliant body against the bars of his cell. Uasul has modified the paramenters of the inhibitor, allowing the prisoner to speak, while the rest of him is kept immobile.

But just because he _can_ speak doesn't mean he will.

"Why? Why did you think for a single second that you would be successful?"

He won't even look me in the eyes.

"You killed your own father, Acras! Finn is dead because of you!"

"I know," he whispers, crumpling to the floor. "I did it. I killed him."

I resist the urge to kick him, determined to save all my fury for The Pit.

"I didn't mean to. I had meant to kill you. _You_. You whom I..." He trails off, and makes a noise I can only describe as a _whimper_.

"Frightened now? Scared of what's waiting for you, _fealltoir_?" Uasul snaps, having remained silent up until this point.

"Frightened? Only if she fails," Acras answers.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Uasul demands, watching from outside the cell.

"Enough," I order, shaking my head. "You were right, Captain, this _is_ pointless."

"Brux and Tago have reported that everything is in order. The arena is full to capacity. The residents of the _Juy-Il_ are incensed. They call for blood."

"Then blood is what they shall receive. Get him on his feet." I exit the cell, opening the archway that leads directly into The Pit.

Like the rumble of distant storm clouds, the crowd chants in _Ja-di_,

"_Do teigh_, _aon mura! Guapholl Racan! Guapholl Racan! Aon mura!_"

Yes. Two will enter, and only one will leave. This is how it has always been; the ultimate trial; strength, skill, and luck determining who is guilty, who is pardoned. Death or freedom, there are no other possible outcomes.

Captain Uasul enters the ring first, escorting Acras who has been given back the use of his legs.

The crowd roars, "_Fealltoir, fealltoir, fealltoir! Bas chuig an fealltoir!"_

Traitor, traitor, traitor. Death to the traitor.

As you wish.

I follow behind, arms crossed behind my back, doing my best to keep my face blank. I am a Senator _and_ the High Commander of the _Juy-Il_. It will not do to make a display of myself, to broadcast my emotions. They already know.

They already know because they feel it too.

The Pit is a simple circular space, the floor covered in compact dirt; the by-product of the ship's recycling system. It feels good under my perpetually bare feet, so unlike the perfectly smooth, cold floor spanning the rest of the ship. Around the arena rise row after row of spectator boxes, which at the moment, are nearly overflowing.

I spot Etain first, sitting with Ru-Reasach, who looks as haggard and depressed as she does. She calls out to me, reaching for my mind with hers. I shut her out. She does not need to be a part of what I am about to do. She saves lives, I take them. I will not show my little sister the darkness that festers inside me.

The humans and _Eirabalann_ are nearby, with Brux and Tago flanking their row of seats.

/Senator?/ prods Prince Aximili, who shifts from foot to foot. Perhaps some remnant of his prey-instincts are waking, drowsy, but aware that he is surrounded by predators. Danger on every side.

/I will be fine, _colthar_, cousin. I am sorry that you have to see this side of us./ I shut him out as well. He shakes his head, startled by the mental door slamming in his face.

I clear my throat, stepping into the center of the ring.

"Citizens of the _Juy-Il_, brothers and sisters all," I start, the proper words for initiating _Guapholl Raccan_ pulled smoothly from my memory.

"I, Cerrid Awen-Caoilfhionn, Senator and High Commander of the Kelbrid Empire, stand before you to invoke my ancient rights. _Guapholl Racan_. I demand blood."

"_Ce fuil? Ce ena?_" The crowd asks, responding in _Ja-di_.

"The blood of Acras-Bhacai Rioga, only son of Finnideach-Bhacai Eolai."

"_Ar ceard udar?_" They chorus.

"For an attempt on my life, in full view of a most sacred and honorable Senate gathering. Is there one who wishes to deny me my right?"

"_Riamh! Riamh! Uile urraim bi do cheannsa!_"

Captain Uasul raises his voice, staking his claim to adjudicating the fight.

"I am Uasul-Anam Dilis, High Captain of the Kelbrid Empire. I have been appointed to uphold the rules of _Guapholl Racam_. Is there one who wishes to deny me my right?"

"_Riamh! Riamh! Uile coithroim bi do cheannsa!_"

He nods, looks to me one last time, and takes his position near the archway that we first entered under.

"On my mark," he says, his voice flat, gaze gone hard.

I finally look to Acras, waiting to see some sign, any sign, that he's preparing for what is about to come.

"_Do teigh_, _aon mura. Guapholl Racan._" Uasul gives the mental command, and the collar around Acras' neck releases, falling uselessly to the ground.

Acras' eyes follow it down, studying it as the small cloud of dust rising around it slowly dissipates, settles. The inhibitor lays there, like a small, dead bird. The crowd is silent, each spectator waiting for first blood to be drawn.

He makes no move.

Fine. Have it your way.

I strike him, claws raking across his face where I know it will hurt. I want him to fight back, _need_ him to. _Guapholl Racan_ isn't only about justice, it's about one party avenging the wrongs committed by another.

I want him to suffer, as I will suffer.

He staggers back, blood streaming down his ragged cheek, splatters of it marring the ground. He looks up at me, shocked.

"Cerrid!"

A roar rips from my lungs and I cuff him on the other side, not doing nearly as much damage, but knocking him to his knees.

"Fight back, coward!"

"No."

"Fight back!" I howl, grabbing him by his hair and pulling him to his feet.

He shakes his head, spitting out the blood that is running into his mouth.

"No. I refuse."

The crowd voices it's discontent--not with me, but with Acras. I am well within my rights to simply throw his useless carcass about the ring. But for the accused to refuse to so much as lift a finger? It's unheard of.

"Why not? Trying to make yourself a martyr!"

I kick him, aiming for his bad knee, watching as it buckles like a piece of rotten wood. He cries out, but makes no attempt to stand.

"No, nothing so noble as that. I just... I _can't_." He sways and falls back into the dirt. He's _crying_.

"Stop it!" I scream, pouncing on his chest, pounding it with clenched fists. "Stop it, Acras! Fight back! Don't make me--"

"I could never fight you, _millis-aonair_," he says, daring to use his old petname for me. "Don't you know that?"

I grab him by the mouth, fully intending to tear his jaw off when he _slams_ his mind into mine, forcing the link wide open.

I fall back, images flashing in front of my eyes faster than my brain can identify what it's seeing.

/It's gone now, though I admit, I wasn't fully aware of It's presence until Uasul put that inhibitor on me./

I choke, shaking my head, refusing to accept what he's telling me.

/It stayed with me, Cerrid, from the moment we opened that door, It stayed. I was weak. Angry, foolish, _proud_. It wanted you, did you know that? It wanted you but you wouldn't let It take you./

I shudder, he moans on the floor, holding his torn face in his hands.

/You were always stronger than me. I am sorry./

"Why didn't you...?" I gasp, rolling onto my knees, watching him writhe on the floor. Whether his injuries have hurt him that badly or the psychological pain has simply overwhelmed him, I can't be sure. Both are devastating.

"I couldn't. It changed me. I tried so many times, but--"

"And It's gone now?" I ask, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to block out the unbearable _regret_ that is filling me up, pouring out of him in uncontrollable torrents.

"With the inhibitor on, my life was effectively ended; I was no longer useful. It abandoned me."

"We can fix this, Acras, we can. Just let me _think_."

"No!" He shouts, scrambling to his feet. "If It believes, even for an instant, that It can use me again... Cerrid, you _must_ kill me!"

How can I kill him now? He cannot be lying, I have seen his mind, all his secrets exposed to me.

"I had my life's ambition taken from me, was cast out by my family, I killed my own father! and I've lost _you!_ Please, Cerrid, _please_. I cannot fight It and I cannot bow to It's power again. Save me," he begs. "_Kill me_."

I am unable to answer him, as a massive explosion rips through a portion of the arena wall. Several dozen Kelbrid spectators are thrown by the blast, many more are reduced to chunks of charred, smoking flesh.

"They're here!" Acras shouts, horrified, and quickly drags me to my feet. "Uasul! Get the _Iolars_!"

Before the smoke clears, a mob of wild Kelbrids pour through the shattered wall, screaming like wild animals.

_An Ena_, here to free their leader.

Only Acras isn't theirs anymore.

They set their sights on me, his blood soaking my arms up to my elbows, claws dripping.

Acras has several already gutted and twitching on the ground before I can react. Behind me, I hear an alien animal roar, and I catch a flash of brilliant orange fur to my left.

It's Prince Jake, leaping gracefully onto the nearest Ena, the beautiful cat making short work of the crazed savage. Amber eyes lock on to their next target. Muscles flex, coil, release, sending a predator as aptly designed as _we_ are surging forward.

Extraordinary.

Two more rebels go sailing over my head, thrown by the hulking black form of Marco's gorilla. He stands up on his rear legs, pounding his chest with fists the size of my head, releasing a bone-rattling bellow that would put the most boastful Kelbrid male to shame.

Impressive.

Prince Aximili is moving through the mob, the long, elegant sweep of his tail lobbing off heads left and right, slicing cleanly through entire torsos. A single Ena jumps on his back, sinking it's long teeth into his flanks.

A bird of prey, stunning in it's command of the open air, streaks down, cutting across the Ena's head. It releases it's hold on Prince Aximili and tumbles off of him. Both eyes are gone, plucked cleanly from their sockets.

The Andalite Prince rears up on his hind legs, bringing his powerful forelegs crashing down on the blind Ena's head. The skull caves as though it were nothing more than a hollow eggshell.

Phenomenal.

"Cerrid!" Uasul shouts, and I look to him, realizing that I'm clutching the throat of a dead Ena in my hand. I drop it, the body falling to the ground with a wet, crunching sound. It seems I'd broken most of it's ribs as well.

Funny, how far muscle memory and instinct can guide you.

To be honest, The Ena are not, by and large, accomplished fighters. They've let their minds go too far, they can no longer think as other Kelbrids can. This, the true reason we exiled ourselves from _An Garrai_; the loss of the sentient mind.

They're quickly becoming little more than rabid animals. Still, their numbers are disconcerting.

With the stands evacuated, those of us who remain quickly finish off the last of the Ena mob.

Panting, soaked with sticky, hot blood, I take stock of our situation.

"This..." I look to Marco, who is demorphing, the few injuries he sustained melting away as the heavier bulk of the gorilla recedes. "This is what you would call a _shitstorm_, eh?"

He laughs, a hollow, chuffing sound as his vocal chords re-form. "Yeah," he answers, trying to shake some of the blood off of himself, "I think this qualifies."

"Senator, what are your orders?" Uasul asks, rubbing his hands with dirt scooped from the ground.

"We need to get to Command," Acras states, shaking. "This was meant as both a means for my escape, _and_ as a diversion."

I quickly open my mind to the others, sharing what Acras had shown me before the explosion.

"Are you sure?" Prince Jake asks, the bold black stripes of the tiger evaporating, fading in to his normal coloration.

"I am. He is with us, for now at least," I assure him.

"If my mind closes to you again, Cerrid," Acras pants, favoring his bad leg, "Kill me quickly. You cannot hesitate."

I nod, but say nothing further on the matter.

"Why do we need to get to Command? What are they planning?"

"A broadcast. We had planned to wait a little longer, until we could get a few operatives aboard the _brea-Il_s, but after I was captured, we knew we had to act quickly."

"Speak plainly, Acras!" Uasul barks.

"They're going to send a signal to all of our sleeper cells aboard the other _Genpur_ ships. They're going to attempt a coup."

"Madness," I whisper, drawing myself up, straightening my spine.

"Yes," Acras admits. "You were right, as usual. _An Ena_ is madness. Our great flaw, our one true weakness."

"You said you had planned to infiltrate the _brea-Il_. Does that mean--?"

"We were unsuccessful. Security was too tight, too many eyes were watching. They put great stock in your opinions, Senator. They did not trust us."

"Thank _Stairn_ for that," I exhale, mind barreling ahead. Marco beats me to it.

"If the other _Genpur_ ships are caught off guard, and if _An Ena_ is successful, we're going to have a huge fucking problem on our hands."

"They'll set course for _An Garrai_," Acras says, crestfallen.

/We can deal with these silly creatures/, Ax states, snapping his tail for effect.

"Exposed, out in the open, I have no doubt." Acras moves toward the collapsed wall, picking his way up the pile of rubble. "But facing a Kelbrid armada?"

"It would be a slaughter," I realize, looking at Prince Aximili. He has no idea just how devastating our weapons systems really are. The destruction of the Blade Ship, employing just two _dustala_, had been child's play.

"How many of the crescent ships does each _Genpur_ have?" Jake asks, following Acras.

"The _bainala_? It varies from ship to ship, but at least a hundred-thousand, and half that number of _dustala_, the heavy gunners you saw destroy the Blade Ship," I answer, not two steps behind Prince Jake.

"Can they fly them?"

"It's possible. They won't have much skill, but the fighters are not designed to be _difficult_ to pilot. If they have the necessary codes and can bond with their ship, or force it to submit..."

No more discussion is necessary. We clamber out of The Pit, and find the hallway outside deserted. My delicate ears pick up the sounds of a far-off skirmish.

"This way," I motion of the others to follow, and they fall in line behind me. Pausing at different intervals, Jake and Marco shift back into their battle-morphs. Uasul, unable to resist, reaches out to pet the tiger.

"Remarkable," he says. Jake just flicks an ear.

/Yeah, we can all cuddle later/, Marco taunts, grunting. /And how come no one ever tries to pet _me_?/

"Would you like me to?" Uasul asks, observing the lumbering gait of the gorilla, knuckling across the floor.

Marco snorts, showing his teeth, and moves on.

"Suit yourself," Uasul sighs, scratching the back of his head.

We pick up the pace, using the _aibi_ tubes to move from the bottom of the ship toward the center, where Command is situated. On the third stop, the hallway we empty out into is choked to the gills with Kelbrids and Ena, engaged in a ferocious battle.

/Time to go to work/ Jake says, haunches bunching before he springs forward, a vicious roar startling the few Ena unlucky enough to be within striking distance. Tobias follows overhead, harrying his enemies from above, always just out of reach. Marco rushes forward, his speed surprising me, and throws himself into the crowd, crushing the skulls of any Ena stupid enough to challenge him.

"Well, I'd hate to let a bunch of human _pups_ outperform us," Uasul quips before leading Brux and Tago into the fight.

"Can you fight?" I ask Acras, motioning to his swollen knee.

"I can," he assures me. If we had enough time to rest, he'd be able to reset all the genetic building-blocks that code for his knee. The damaged body part would wither and fall off, replaced almost instantly by fresh bone, muscle, and cartilege.

But there isn't enough time. There is _never_ enough time.

We nod to each other and drive forward, ripping into our enemies, and I am surprised by how easily we slip back into our old rhythm. It's been so long since we fought together, but I instinctively anticipate his movements, as he does mine. The bodies pile up around us, gutted, broken, beyond repair.

The air finally stills, Tobias finds purchase on Prince Aximili's shoulder, picking his talons clean.

I turn my attention to the Kelbrids who had been attacked. They all seem, for the most part, largely uninjured. One has a laceration to his shoulder that will require medical attention, but for the time being, he'll live.

"You four, take positions along this corridor. You must hold your ground. Can you tell a Kelbrid from one of the Ena?"

They all nod, having noticed the same differences I have. It's in the eyes, and the silent, closed-off state of their minds.

"Good. Do not let a single one of their ilk pass. I am counting on each of you."

"Yes, Senator!" they respond in unison, those who are able snapping to attention.

We continue on toward Command, clearing room after room, hall after hall, of mindless, leaderless Ena. I stop counting the bodies after the number eclipses 100.

How could so many have hidden themselves among us? How could we not _know_ what they were?

_An Ena_ is--was--a legitimate political party, however insignificant. But the few spokesmen that had shown up at Senate meetings, to lobby for their cause, were _normal_, nothing like these pathetic wretches.

"This is it," I announce, throwing my hand against the archway-wall, commanding the _Juy-Il_ to open it for me.

There is a brief moment of hesitation, the ship believing, for some reason, that I am already inside.

"They've already breached Command, haven't they?" Acras groans, slumping against the wall, breathing hard.

Realizing it's error, the ship opens the wall immediately, confusion buzzing through it's awareness.

Inside, all of the officers I had posted at the helm of the great ship are dead, hanging limp over the control panels, thrown into corners like discarded paper dolls, torn to pieces in their seats, even in their last moments attempting to secure the ship. There is blood everywhere.

"They had your personal access codes," Acras mutters, scanning the room--as we all are--for any signs of life. "I hacked them from the ship's database."

"You did _what?!_" Uasul sputters, eyes wide.

Now the _Juy-Il'_s reaction to me makes sense. With my access codes, the ship would naturally assume I was the one requesting entry. Believing I was already inside, it was confused to find me outside the wall, asking to be let in a second time.

Acras pushes us out of the way, wiping blood from one of the screens.

"They've begun broadcasting. The nearest _Genpur_ will be within range to receive the encoded message in..." He wipes more of the blood away, "Sons of _ifrinn_, six minutes."

/RU-REASACH!/

Everyone cringes as I turn the volume up as high as I can. I must reach my Communications Officer. He must yet live!

/Senator! Ah!/

/COMMAND. NOW./

"Clear the stations, he'll need room to work," I bark, grabbing Acras by the shoulder. "Tell me there's an easy way to shut the broadcast down."

He shakes his head, dashing my hopes.

"There is a way, but it is beyond my skill," he says, wincing.

Ru barrels into the room, slipping on a long smear of blood on the floor. He catches sight of the rest of the carnage. Etain has tagged along and is frozen in the doorway.

"Ah, ah, ahhhhh," Ru's trembling all over, every hair on his head standing on end.

"Enough! I need you to focus now, Ru-Reasach Fiosrach," I demand, taking hold of him by both shoulders.

"Acras, explain it to him."

Acras begins to rattle off as much information as he can, and all of it coasts far over my head. Ru asks a few questions and gets to work, his fingers flying over the controls.

"Cerrid?" It's Etain, sounding as terrified as I feel. She's got one of her medical kits clutched between her hands, her claws denting the container.

"They're dead, Etty. Can you look to Acras' knee though?"

"A-Acras?" She scrunches her nose, eyes turning to settle on him. "But...?"

"We'll explain later," he promises, limping over to her as she slowly opens the kit.

"Of course, later," she breathes, and gets to work.

"It's no use!" Ru cries, stumbling back from the controls. "I, ah, need more time than we have available, Senator."

"Find a way!"

I'm desperate. The alternative I have in mind, the only other way I can stop this plague from spreading, is unimaginable.

He looks at me, utterly hopeless, and I know I cannot put this on his shoulders.

"It's okay," I say, and everything comes into sharp, unavoidable focus. "Ru-Reasach, Uasul, Brux, Tago; I thank you for your service. You have done well today."

They each stare at me, not yet able to understand.

"Prince Jake, Marco, Tobias, meeting you has been one of the great adventures of my life. But now I need you to find your friends and get them out of here, while there is still time."

"Senator...?" Marco starts, but Jake shakes his head.

"I get it. Ax, send a message to Jeanne, Santorelli, and Menderash. Tell them to meet us at the dock where we dropped anchor, ASAP."

The leader of The Animorphs looks to me.

"Thanks. For everything."

I dip my head, hoping that while the time we have spent as friends, as allies, was short, it will still be meaningful to him, to all of them.

"Prince Aximili, I hope one day our descendants will reconcile. If there is a way for us to go home, a way without bloodshed, I leave it to you to find that path," I say, looking fondly at the _Eirabalann_ warrior.

He covers the distance between us in a few even strides and presses his forehead to mine, stalk eyes tickling the top of my head.

/I swear I will do everything I can, cousin. _An Garrai _will not remain a house divided forever./

He follows his human companions out.

"Cerrid, you can't--" Uasul is shaking his head, blood standing out in stark contrast against his white skin.

"That was a direct order, Captain." I clap my jaws at Brux and Tago, and startled, they slink out of the room.

"You too, Etain."

"What are you doing?" she asks, panic rising in her voice.

"What I have to do in order to keep us safe," I answer and whistle at Ru, getting his attention. "Get her out of here."

He complies, tugging on Etain's arm as she struggles, refusing to allow herself to even entertain the notion of what we all know I plan to do.

"_Millis-aonair_," Acras calls, advancing on me, guilt etched deeply into his features. "My brave one, my sweet one," he draws me to him. "Goodbye, love."

I feel something thin and sharp sink into my neck, burrowing deep into the muscle.

_Acras! Traitor to the last!_

The world swallows me up, and I am lost.

---

Acras

I catch her before she falls, feeling her muscles go slack against me. The sedative worked perfectly.

"Captain Uasul," I look up at him, and see that he is a moment away from gutting me. He still does not believe what I revealed to them. But I suppose that's to be expected.

I have been a bit of a bastard lately. Okay, I've _always_ been a bit of a bastard. But you get my point.

"Oh, wipe that silly look off your face, _tallan_, and take her. She's heavy." He lifts Cerrid out of my arms, cradling her like an infant against his chest. She looks much smaller now, helpless even.

"Look, I don't like you, I never have," I spit, unable to suppress the growl rumbling from my throat. "You pursued her even after I staked my claim--"

"She wasn't yours to lord over!" He scowls, shifting her weight in his arms.

"Just shut up and listen to me. This is important."

This is my last chance to leave anyone with a sense of how I feel about her.

"I know you care for her, that's why I'm trusting you with this. Do not let her ever question my love for her, it was the last thing The One stripped from me, what I clung to most dearly. She is yours to protect now. If anything happens to her," I warn, the growl turning into a snarl.

"I understand," he says, and I believe him. "Are you sure you can do this?"

"Positive. Now go. There are only a few minutes left. As it is, you may not be able to escape the shockwave. Go!"

He turns without another word and sprints out of the room. Uasul was always fast on his feet, damn him.

With the same codes I had stolen from the database months ago, I bring up the prompt that will end this nightmare once and for all.

_What do you think you are doing?_

Ah, so It's decided to pay me some attention again. I punch the necessary codes in, chuckling to myself.

_Extracting my pound of flesh, as it were_, I throw back at It, shivering as that all-too-familiar chill touches the edges of my mind, probing.

A new clock begins running, one that will cross the finish line just before the encrypted broadcast is intercepted by another Kelbrid ship.

_You'll have to find another way_, I taunt, collapsing onto the floor. The syringe I had pocketed from Etain's kit rolls out of my hand. I no longer have the strength to hold on to it.

_I will._

Yes, It certainly will, but at least now she has a chance to fix this, to undo whatever course of events gave rise to this malicious, wicked _Thing_ that refuses to leave me alone, even in my final moments.

My beautiful, fierce, clever girl!

In another life, perhaps...

The clock winds down.

The world explodes.

_I am not afraid_.

---

Cerrid

Both the _Juy-Il_ and Acras are torn violently from my mind, and the pain is unbearable. I return to consciousness screaming, lashing out at the arms holding me down.

I am on a _bainala_, Uasul's _bainala_ to be exact. It too is fading from my mind, sputtering out like a flame reaching the end of it's wick.

"What did you--?" I look up into the face of Uasul, who is staring out the forward screen of the ship.

"It's gone. Mercy on us all, _it's gone_."

Then the shockwave hits us and the dying fighter ship is thrown forward by the sheer force of it, tumbling on and on, like a piece of driftwood caught on the crest of an enormous wave, a tsunami of visible, tangible energy.

Finally the wave breaks, and we're left to drift aimlessly, out of the worst of it. The various systems controlling the ship shut down as the heart of the _Juy-Il_ is reduced to dust.

Etain, Ru, Brux and Tago are with us. They right themselves, nursing bruised shoulders and broken spirits.

"The humans? The Andalites?" I manage, pulling myself up to a sitting position.

Uasul shakes his head. "We lost contact with them. We know they reached their Cruiser a few minutes before we boarded the _bainala_, but there's no knowing for sure."

It is likely that his ship was moving at maximum speed. Too close to the _Genpur_ to initiate a Z-space jump, but fast enough to get out of the way. I have no idea how fast a Yeerk Cruiser can travel, but I doubt that it can reach the speeds we can. Still, they had a head start.

"Look," Etain whispers, staring past Uasul's head. "Isn't that--?"

And it is, _Stairn_ help me, but it is_. _The Cruiser, or what's left of it, glides past us, broken cleanly in half, the cabin open to space. Nothing could have survived that. All my hopes are crushed.

"It doesn't matter," I realize, and lay back down. "With the _Juy-Il_ gone, these ships are just empty shells. There's no more oxygen being filtered through by the ventilation system. We have..." I think back to the training manuals I had received before my first flight. "10 minutes, probably less, before we suffocate."

"What about another _Genpur_?" Etain asks.

"Even if someone managed to fire off a distress signal, it would take too long for a ship that size to exit Z-space."

"But other _Iolars_--?"

"Etty, we've no signal. We were pushed _millions_ of miles away from the blast zone. Even if they arrived right this minute, finding our dark little ship would be nearly impossible. Just close your eyes and sleep, sister."

She begins to sob quietly, and Ru attempts to comfort her.

Brux produces a small flask of _dearsacch_ from his vest, that rakish smile he's notorious for brightening his features.

"One for the road, then?" he asks, unscrewing the cap.

We pass the liquor around, each taking their full share.

My head spins, and I watch as the others begin to drop off. It's not such a bad way to go, I suppose. Quite like falling asleep.

Ever so slowly, I am slipping away, watching the stars cycle past as the dead ship rotates. It is over. I am done.

And then..._and then!_

Then a voice from somewhere out amongst the stars flutters into my brain like a cool, calm wind. Proud, noble, sincere. Very much in control.

/Senator Cerrid, hold on. We will be with you shortly./

And I know who it is that's rocketing across the cosmos, though I cannot rationalize just _why _they're coming.

The Andalites. Hallelujah.

_Lyrics: "The Beast in Me," Johnny Cash_


	10. Leave It Behind

The Kelbrid Chronicles

REDUX

---

_I'm not the one who made the world what it is today._

_I'm not the one who caused the problems started long ago,_

_but now I deal with all the consequences that trouble our times._

_I carry on and never once have even questioned 'why?'_

---

X. Leave It Behind

Ax

They are here, and we are safe. For now, at least.

Senators Tui, Toim, and Fiain are onboard _The CosmicBlade_ as well, trying to make sense of everything that has happened. The planet-sized _brea'Tintean-Il_ is several million miles away, keeping the much smaller Dome Ship free from it's gravitational pull. Several members of Andalite High Command are en route, having agreed to meet with the Kelbrid politicians.

It seems we have learned something from our past mistakes. Though Captain-Prince Aashath, the Andalite commanding this ship, required a bit of persuasion on my part, he eventually agreed to rescue the thousand-or-so Kelbrids who managed to escape the _Juy-Il_ before it exploded. We arrived in the nick of time.

"I still don't understand. Why would Acras sabotage his own mission?" Tui asks, shaking his head slowly.

Senator Fiain clucks her tongue at him. "Haven't you listened to a word the _Eirabalann_ Prince has said?"

/Up until his imprisonment, Acras was being manipulated by The One; though he admitted he was not aware of it at the time. Once It abandoned him, he saw his mistakes for what they were and attempted to fix them,/ I repeat, not sure we have the time to actually go into the issue in detail.

"But what _is_ The One?" Senator Toim asks, pacing behind his colleagues. "And what in the name of _Stairn_ does it want with us?"

/I am not sure, though I get the feeling this is nothing more than an entertaining diversion for It. I am more concerned about what It might do once it grows tired of us./

Senator Fiain looks up at me, bronze eyes scrutinizing my face. I can tell that, in her prime, she was quite a force to be reckoned with.

"You faced The One. What do you recall of the encounter?"

/Not much. It was like staring into a deep void. I could not discern any reason It had taken an interest in me./

"It attempted to absorb you, correct?" she asks.

/No, It _did_ absorb me, or part of me anyway./

"It stopped?"

/It has disciples, and they wanted me first. When they were done with me, I am sure It would have continued./

She nods, causing the earrings looping through her long ears to jostle against one another.

"What kind of creatures were these disciples?"

/Yeerks./

She snarls, snorting with apparent disgust.

"Vile beings," she looks to Tui. "Parasites. The Andalites set them loose on the galaxy, if you recall."

/A most unfortunate lapse of judgment. I hope I am not repeating Seerow's mistake by allowing you onto my ship/, Aashath retorts, his tail twitching, arching high over his back.

"We have no use for Andalite technology," she snaps. "You risk nothing by hosting this meeting."

/Except becoming dinner/, he says, turning to look at me. /You never cease to amaze, Prince Aximili. Wherever you go, you make friends with the unlikeliest of creatures./

"His is an example you should seek to emulate, pup," Senator Fiain wheezes, tossing a warm smile my way. "We all should."

"Now, now. Once this is all behind us, I see no reason to continue such interactions, Fi'," Tui starts, silenced by the stony glare he receives from her. Truly, the female is frightening when she wishes to be.

"It is the separation of our species that has lead to this catastrophe! If we had presented a more united front, The One may have meddled with some other foolish tribe!"

"Senators..." Captain Uasul, along with Menderash and Prince Jake enter the room.

"High Captain," Senator Fiain greets him, standing with surprising speed and pressing her forehead to his, patting his cheeks with her hands. "This has been hard on all of us," she murmurs, consoling him as a mother would her child.

"We lost so many," he admits, shaking from head to toe. "Out of 150 million, only a few thousand escaped."

Senator Fiain helps him into a seat, patting his head as he settles down.

"How is Cerrid?" she asks, once again displaying a motherly tenderness I had not expected.

"Unresponsive. She's slipping away from us, as you said she would," Uasul says, trying hard not to sound distraught. "Nothing Etain does is helping."

"I had hoped I was wrong," Fiain sighs, sinking back into her own seat. "The separation from the _Juy-Il_--" she rubs the spot between her eyes, grumbling to herself. "In 70 million years, we have never lost a _Genpur_. No mind could be expected to handle such an injury."

/I do not understand. Why would losing a ship hurt her?/ Prince Aashath asks, looking concerned for the first time.

"The _Genpur_ and the High Commander of that _Genpur_ bond mentally. In Senator Cerrid's case, the two had almost become indistinguishable from one another. Her mind _was_ the _Juy-Il_'s, and vice-versa," Fiain explains, still rubbing her nose.

"When the ship died--"

/'_Died'_? You cannot possible mean--/

"We had tens-of-millions of years to perfect the technology upon which our survival depends. Over time, and often by complete accident, we developed methods to bring life to what is otherwise lifeless," Toim explains. "We needed the ships in which our civilization has managed to preserve itself to have an equal, if not greater, stake in our survival."

"A living organism will defend it's own life more fiercely than any outside entity," Senator Fiain says. "After fully formed, a newly born _Genpur_ is presented with a list of potential High Commanders, and from this list, it chooses a partner."

/And the _Juy-Il_ chose Senator Cerrid?/

Fiain chuckles, closing her eyes, lost in memory. "Faster than any _Anam Banna_ ceremony that I can recall."

/How does the ship know which name to choose?/ Prince Aashath asks, his body posture slowly changing. He is no longer as tense.

"Who knows such things?" Tui says, stroking one of his ears in thought.

"There are myths, of course." Uasul's voice is distant, and his eyes are unfocused, as if he is far away. "Some say the soul of a _Genpur_ is the spirit of a deceased loved one, having found it's way back to the person it cares for most."

"Children's stories," Fiain sighs.

"Others say they are Guardians, given to the Kelbrids by the Creator as a reward for choosing to leave _An Garrai_ rather than hunt our bretheren to extinction," Uasul finishes, shrugging.

"Superstitious rubbish. It is likely the ship chooses at random, and after pilfering through the mind of it's chosen Commander, it finds a name it believes it's partner will approve of."

/What does _Juy-Il_ mean to Cerrid?/

"'Il' is merely a title, an honorific. Kelbrids are Kelbrids, Andalites are Andalites. An Il is an Il. All _Genpur_ ships are _Ils_. We are merely recognizing that they are living creatures," Fiain explains.

"It is a matter of respect," Tui nods. "The _Ils_ have not asked to serve as our homes, they consent to it because they choose to. They crave our companionship as we crave theirs. They are family."

"_Juy_ is the _Ja-di_ word for 'protector.' It was also the name of Cerrid's mother," Fiain adds quietly.

/What will happen to her now?/

"It's already begun," Uasul says, and this time he is unable to keep the grief out of his voice.

"We have theories about what will happen, but as I said, we have never lost a _Genpur_ until today. Her mind is likely ruined, torn apart from the loss of the _Juy-Il_," Fiain says before attempting to console Uasul with a few low hoots.

/There must be a way to stop it/, I insist. /When Senator Cerrid found me on the Blade Ship, I was already dead, but she did not let that stop her. I will not allow the unknown to stop me./

"Her pain is likely too great, Prince Aximili. It may be best to let her go, let her stay where the hurt cannot reach her." Toim drops his gaze from mine, his ears low.

/No. We need her here./

They all look at me.

"I'm not letting her slip away that easily either," Jake says, finally speaking up from his place near the door.

"I am not satisfied to give up without a fight," Menderash agrees, nodding to me.

"What about trying to reach her through _The Hidden World_?" Jake asks, his eyes bright with the idea.

"Who told you about _that_?" Tui asks, flustered.

/The Senator showed it to us. She hoped we would use it to bond more closely with one another./ I will not reveal her secret to them just yet. When she is well again, and when she is ready, she can explain that first meeting with The One. It is not my place.

"She can nurse her wounds later, when The One is good and dead," Jake states, motioning with a toss of his head that I should follow him out. "Until then, she has work to do."

Uasul scrambles out of his seat to join us. It seems he is not ready to abandon the Senator either.

/Please wait here with Captain-Prince Aashath. The Andalite High Command will be here shortly, and I believe we are working on establishing communication with the United Nations, on Earth. We need to pool our information and consolidate our efforts against this being, before it is too late./

"Who is serving as the representative for the Humans?" Fiain asks wearily.

/A dear, and trustworty friend/, I promise, glancing over to Jake before continuing. /Her name is Cassie. It was she and an android named Erek King who intercepted the Ena's message and alerted the U.N. to the impending attack./

/The leader of the United Nations then contacted us/, Aashath informs them. /Without that advance notice.../

"We would have lost them all," Tui breathes. "It seems we have friends in unexpected places, eh?"

Prince Aashath nods, tossing a private message my way before I leave.

/Make sure the human named 'Marco' stays out of my way. I find his constant mispronunciation of my name quite annoying. 'Asshat' sounds nothing like _Aashath_./

Oh, if I only had a mouth! During moments such as this I often feel I might explode from the need to laugh.

/Of course, Prince Aashath. I will send for Santorelli and Jeanne in his stead. Good luck./

---

We decide to keep the group entering _The Hidden World_ small. Too many minds bombarding hers at once might cause the Senator to retreat even further.

"So Ax, Uasul, and Jake are gonna go after her," Marco states, sitting indian-style, surrounded by the plush, blue-green grass of the dome ecosystem. Most of the Kelbrids we picked up from the wreckage are recovering here. Those healthy enough have already been shuttled to the _brea'Tintean-Il_.

"Sounds fine to me. What're you gonna say when you find her?" he asks, curling a fist under his chin.

/Whatever she needs to hear. We cannot afford to lose her. The One recoiled from the Blade Ship when she arrived to rescue me, and It could not control her as It controlled Acras./

/What makes you think It didn't just choose Acras instead of Cerrid?/ Tobias asks, perched high in one of the trees scattered throughout the complex.

"Why else would It pass up the opportunity to control a higher-ranking officer? Cerrid was a High Captain while Acras was her Lieutenant, her subordinate. If It _could_ have had her, It would have," Menderash explains. "With her under It's control, It would have been able to unleash _An Ena_ on the other Kelbrids with much less difficulty."

"Don't underestimate your own part in this, Ax," Marco pipes up. "I know you think The One gave you back to the Yeerks to placate them, but I think something else was at play."

/What else could have deterred it?/ I ask.

"I don't know yet. I don't have enough of the pieces to make sense of the puzzle." He lies back in the grass, plucking a few strands out and tossing them aimlessly. "Just a feeling. A gut instinct."

"We can try and make sense of it later, once the Senator is back," Jake says, eager to get started.

Uasul approaches, the limp body of the Senator cradled in his arms. If it weren't for the shallow rise-and-fall of her chest, I might mistake her for dead. He props her up against the tree Tobias has claimed and leans against her shoulder, keeping her from falling over.

"I'm not sure what to expect. I've only done this exercise with soldiers of my own rank, never with a superior," Uasul admits. He's nervous, keenly aware of every place his body touches hers.

/You love her./

"Yes," he answers quickly, honestly, his eyes never leaving her face. "But I could never--" He shakes his head. "That isn't important right now."

/On the contrary, it may be very important. Right now, the Senator is in more pain than we can imagine. Coaxing her out of the safety of her subconscious is going to take quite a bit of convincing. Her bond with you will be critical to our success./

"She doesn't... She doesn't even _know_," he says, blowing a bit of air out of nose. "She can't know. She would have me reassigned and I _won't_ leave her."

/You do not need to _tell_ her a thing, Captain. But _The Hidden World_ exposes our true selves to those we choose to share it with. She will know simply because you are there. Do you still want to--/

"Of course," he sighs, resigned. "I will give up anything to bring her back."

We join hands, Uasul and Jake on either side of the Senator, and myself serving as the anchor.

/I do not know the words/, I realize.

"The words aren't important. Just think of the one place you go to when--"

Uasul doesn't have a chance to finish. A pleasant humming fills our heads and the garden within the Dome Ship fades, replaced by the high, golden grass bordering the dirt path in front of Cassie's barn.

Jake laughs bitterly at himself. "I really fucked things up with her, didn't I?"

/Nothing that cannot be repaired/, I reply, picking up the scent of warm pastry and cinnamon. Ah, Cinnabon! How I have missed you!

Uasul has his back to us, staring at what appears to be a Kelbrid schoolyard.

"Why this, of all places? I _hated_ it here." He backs away, shaking his head.

"You hated school?" Jake asks.

"I hated how the other students, even some of the teachers, treated me," Uasul admits. "I had to be twice as smart, twice as fast, twice as _perfect_ just to avoid being tormented."

/Because you are an _aondath_?/ I ask.

He nods slowly, still moving away from the playground.

"The only reason I even continued showing up was because of Cerrid and Etain. They weren't like the others," he confesses. "Etain was too soft, too sweet, but she was clearly a genius. The others left her alone because she was special, and because Cerrid..."

And suddenly, a crowd of round-bellied, howling Kelbrid pups come bursting from beneath the archway opening against the school wall. Most are various shades of brown, Cerrid and Etain a bit redder than the others, Acras a dark grey-brown--like Finnideach--and then Uasul.

A mound of snow dropped into an asphalt pit could not have seemed more out of place.

"Hey _tallan_, my ma says that when you reach majority, they're gonna _sterilize_ you!" one child announces, met with roaring laughter from the others.

"Yeah, we don't want your freak-blood contaminating the rest of us!" a scrawny looking female shouts, shoving the clearly distressed child-Uasul forward, into more jeering faces, more cruel hands.

"You'd be lucky to have a mate half as clever as him, Bideach" calls Cerrid, wiping some substance from her younger sister's face, her back to the crowd. Acras stands nearby, watching with obvious amusement.

Bideach balks and slinks away from the crowd, nursing the grave social wounds inflicted by her higher-ranking peer.

"Why're you always defending _him_, Cerrid? He's trash!" The first young male calls.

"He has a point, Cer'," Acras laughs, chewing on one of his claws. "Besides, he should learn to take his lickings like a real male. I wouldn't ever let someone call me names like that."

"Of course not. You'd beat them to a bloody pulp and expect Father to clean up your mess," she snaps back, shooing the thoroughly cleaned Etain off to play.

The child-Uasul tries to maneuver his way out of the crowd, hoping that Cerrid's interference will be enough to keep the others at bay.

He is sadly mistaken.

"Where do you think you're going, _tallan_!?"

The other children pounce, giving in to their pack mentality, asserting their dominance over the chosen omega.

"Oh for pity's sake... Not again." Cerrid sighs and looks to Acras for backup. He continues studying his claws. Apparently, she is on her own.

With a snort of disappointment, Cerrid roars into action, literally. Even at such a young age, she is quite ferocious. She pulls the other children off of Uasul, sometimes by the scruff of their necks, snapping her jaws, growling, bearing her teeth.

They recognized her as their alpha long ago, before their eyes had even opened to the world, when she insisted on nursing first, on claiming the best spot to sleep, demanding the most attention from the adults who looked after them.

The crowd disperses as Cerrid stakes her territorial claim over Uasul's crumpled form. Ears laid back, she keeps her head and tail high. He may be the omega, but he is _her_ omega. No one will attempt to attack him again without her express consent.

"Are you alright, 'Sul?" she asks, helping him to his feet.

"I--" he looks up at her, flushing blue across his cheeks. "Y-Yes, I'm fine."

"'Ras is right you know. You need to stick up for yourself more," she wipes some blood from his face and then walks off, joining in some game that Acras has started with a few of the higher-ranking children.

The scene fades, and the children drift away on an unseen wind, like the ghosts they are.

"I knew I would follow her anywhere after that," the real Uasul whispers, more to himself than to us. "I'm sorry, I don't know why that memory came to me. I should have shut it out."

"Hello 'Sul!"

He whips around, startled by the voice we had previously heard from the child-version of Cerrid.

Sitting on the surface of a picnic table, which is nearly swallowed by the weeds sprouting up around it, the young Senator swings her legs over the edge.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, pulling off long splinters of wood from the table and flicking them into the cattails.

"Woah," Jake breathes, nudging me gently with an elbow. "That's not a memory, is it?"

/No/, I answer, moving toward Uasul. /No, it feels different./

"Solid, _real_."

"C-Cerrid?" Uasul stammers, tilting his head to the side.

The child laughs, throwing a piece of rotten wood at him. "You're all trying to find a way into my head, aren't you? So who else would it be?"

"But why do you look so--"

"I've been waiting for you. I found something, and you all need to see it." She hops down off the table, and for a moment, only the swaying tips of the cattails give away her position.

"C'mon Uasul! and tell the Human and the _Eirabalann_ to come too!"

"She doesn't remember our names?" Jake asks, quickly catching up to Uasul, who is already at Cerrid's heels.

"Of course I do," she laughs. "Jake and Aximili."

The lush landscape bleeds into another memory, long grass, dirt, and fence posts giving way to the metallic interior of a Kelbrid ship.

"This is the _Orlaigh-Il_, isn't it?" Uasul asks, running one hand along the wall. "The ship we grew up on."

"Mhhhmmm. This is where it _really_ started. At least for me. I don't think I ever would have found it if that bad thing hadn't happened."

/Bad thing?/ I ask, hooves clicking loudly on the smooth floor.

"I don't want to talk about it," Cerrid sniffles, growing younger every moment. She has reached the age I remember seeing her at when Etain was crying at her feet. When their parents died.

"Right here," she announces, as the entrance-wall opens up, showing what appears to be some kind of engine room on the other side.

"Mama and Papa worked here. They were engineers, smart like Etty," she says, standing in the doorway.

"We were supposed to be spending the day learning about some stupid traditional dance, but me and Etty wanted to surprise our parents. We saved our allowance for _a whole cycle_ and bought them a real expensive lunch from one of the fancy markets on Level 2," she says, looking up at Uasul.

"We thought we'd have a picnic in the _talamh_. It's kinda like the garden you Andalites have on your ships, only ours is more for remembering home. We can never forget _An Garrai_." She sighs, and leans against the arch, watching as her parents direct the maintenance of the enormous engine.

I hear footsteps behind me, and the voices of two children, trying (and failing) to be quiet.

A duplicate Cerrid and a tiny, toddler-like Etty amble up to the doorway, surprised to find it already open. Their arms are overflowing with what I can only assume passes for gourmet Kelbrid food.

"It happens right here! Right... _now_!"

The memory freezes, stalls, and then suddenly both Cerrid and Etain are back with the rest of their class, all of the food gone. A distant explosion rumbles through the ship, knocking several of the children to the floor.

"It doesn't make sense, and I had forgotten all about that first part until I came here, in my own head," Cerrid cries, watching as her own memories evaporate.

"I've watched it a hundred times and I still don't--"

"The Ellimist," Jake groans, crouching down near the distraught child. "Cerrid, _Senator_, I can explain everything, but I need you to come back. If all of this links up the way I suspect it does, we're gonna need you now more than ever."

"I... I _can't_," she trembles, clearly terrified. "It's my fault. They died and, don't you understand? It's all my fault!"

Uasul pushes me aside and gathers the wailing child in his arms, whispering to her in _Ja-di_. But here, in _The Hidden World_, language has no real meaning. We know instinctively what he is saying to her.

"It hurts, 'Sul. I can't figure out a way to make it stop, I just want it to _stop_."

"Cerrid, you're not a child anymore. You are a High Commander. Your pain is not important. You have a duty to your people. I need you to grow up and resume your post."

/I will drag you out of here myself if you make me/, I insist. /Weak as my arms may be, I will find a way./

"I'll help," Jake agrees, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Why?" she asks, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Because you're a friend, and I've lost too many of those. I won't let another one go without doing everything I can to avoid adding another name to that list."

"I am not Rachel," she says, and she is growing taller before our eyes, losing the rounded features of her youth, becoming the sleek, assertive Kelbrid leader we first met.

"Yeah, I know, but you would have liked each other, I think."

She snorts.

"Fine. But I want a long, hideously lavish vacation once this is all over."

"You and me both, Senator."

/As long as there is a Cinnabon./

"What's 'Cinnabon'?" Uasul asks, trying to avoid Cerrid's eyes.

/The most marvelous contribution Humans can offer to other beings/, I inform him, and I mean it.

_The Hidden World_ fades, Cerrid having pulled her hands free from Jake and Uasul. She shakes her head before being suddenly overcome, sobbing hard into her hands.

"Better she deal with it this way," Menderash says quietly, looking up at Tobias, still keeping lookout from his perch.

Uasul blinks at us, "Give her a few hours to get herself sorted out. Send word to the elder Senators, and the Andalite High Command, if they've arrived."

He helps her slowly to her feet, steering her toward a more secluded spot near the water.

"Tell them Senator Cerrid is back," he says over his shoulder. "And Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there a way to get this 'Ellimist' character here? I get the feeling he is some kind of common link. He's meddled in your past, hasn't he?"

"You don't even know the half of it," Jake says, rubbing the top of his head. "Problem is, he's never shown up upon request. He just kind of..."

"Finds the absolute most annoying, ill-timed moment to pop in and fuck with us?" Marco supplies, still lying on his back, staring up through the dome, into space.

"Pretty much."

"What's he got to do with this anyway?" Marco asks, yawning.

"He interfered in Cerrid's timeline. Etain's too, come to think of it. You know he doesn't do that without a reason."

"Yeah, usually to prevent the extinction of an entire species." Marco sits up, looking from me, to Jake, Menderash, and then Tobias.

"You don't think he saw this thing coming from that long ago?" Jake asks, his voice rising.

"He's a master strategist, Jake. Who knows how many moves he's planned ahead for. Maybe everything we've gone through in our entire lives was to prepare us for this."

/Even the Ellimist wouldn't get his hands _this_ dirty./

"No?" Marco asks, craning his neck up to look at Tobias. "Think about it. If we hadn't fought the war with the Yeerks, we would probably be Controllers or dead. We definitely wouldn't have met Ax, or the other Andalites. Which means we wouldn't have met the Kelbrids. So when The One finally showed up in our neck of the woods--"

"We would all be screwed. Humans, Yeerks, Andalites, Kelbrids..." Jake sighs, beginning to pace.

"He made sure we'd survive by sending Elfangor back to the Andalites, enabling him to crashland on Earth, and give us access to the _escafil_ device, which then made it possible for us to rescue Ax at the bottom of the ocean_ and_ fight the Yeerks. He moved Time for us, more than once, to keep us from being annihilated. He restored Tobias' ability to morph. And now we find out he prevented the Senator from getting blown to itty-bitty pieces," he inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

/He _was_ preparing us, and it is likely he was preparing us for The One./ I feel uneasy, as if we are peering too far over the edge of a deep chasm. It will only take the smallest nudge to tumble headlong into a conflict unlike any we have known.

"So, back to the key question," Marco says, digging his toes into the grass. "What does this thing _want_?"

I wish I had an answer for him, but I do not.

Though usually it goes without saying, I am--in the truest sense possible--speechless.

_Lyrics: Not the One_, _The Offspring_


	11. Chapter 0: Dear Readers

Dearest Reader,

As it always has been, this story is a work-in-progress. I'm a perfectionist, and I'll probably never stop tinkering with it, ferreting out mistakes, thinking of better ways to relate what I'm trying to show, the story I'm trying to tell.

I apologize for the enormous gaps between updates. My life has been very hectic over the last few years, and while I never truly abandoned this project, I admit I did not give it the attention it deserved. _The Animorphs_ were a favorite series of mine as a young person, and I'm happy to see that it's still maintains a niche following among new and old readers alike.

I promise that this story will have an actual conclusion, one that is as satisfying as I can possibly hope to craft. I need the closure as much as you do, and I _will_ deliver. Chapter 1 now exists in its final state (though I can't promise I won't continue to tweak it now-and-then). I've stripped away some of the clunkier prose, and my more adolescent attempts at being witty and clever. I'm not trying to mimic the voices of the characters in each chapter—I'm trying to slip into their skin, get comfy in their brains, and acquaint myself with their respective psyches. K.A. Applegate wrote a wonderful series, but there was very little exploration of the effects of the "secret war" waged by a group of American teenagers.

My story is dark in many places. It is told from an adult perspective, as both myself and our heroes have grown and matured quite a bit since that first morph. This is not a story that exists in the world of Scholastic Books anymore, and it certainly isn't going to be held back by any moral reservations regarding what the "kiddies" should or should not be exposed to in literature.

I hope that gives you a better idea of where I'm planning to go with this, and reassures you that this time, I really am going to finish this. To paraphrase Marco, I want this _story_ to end. So stick with me, and we'll see who emerges from the rubble alive and victorious together.

Best regards and warmest wishes,

CJ


End file.
